Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead (30 page)

But did he pick up his cell? Of course not. He’d either forgotten to turn it on, charge it, find it, or take it off vibrate. Her best shot was to leave a voice mail and hope he could recall the two easy steps for message retrieval.

By the time they were en route to the hotel, they were both just relieved to have found the airport exit, let alone Interstate 88, though Beth did cross over four lanes of traffic and cut off a tractor trailer.

“And for my next trick,” Mindy peered into her side view mirror to see if a cop had witnessed the maneuver.

“Hey . . . it’s a new city. I’m trying to learn the shortcuts.”

“And I’m trying to arrive with dry underpants.”

“You’re hilarious. You should think about writing greeting cards. Are you looking for the sign for Cermak Road?”

“Believe me, no one wants to find that exit more than me. You do realize you’re tailgating an ambulance.”

“Just keeping up with traffic, Officer. Just keeping up with traffic.”

Nothing like a beautiful hotel suite to help you settle in. Especially one that didn’t cost a dime and that had a fruit basket and a bottle of wine waiting. Even Beth, who was accustomed to fluffy robes and scenic views, was impressed by the size and the well-appointed bathrooms. “Downtown Greetings must want us pretty bad.” She went right for the wine.

“Yeah.” Mindy kicked off her shoes and collapsed on the couch

“The question is why.”

“I don’t care why.” Beth poured two glasses. “All that matters 268

Saralee Rosenberg

is they canceled the contest so we have zero competition, they paid our way here, and all we have to do tomorrow is charm them with a little tap dance.”

“Yes, well before we shuffle off to Buffalo, can we please think through our strategy?”

“No need. You’re forgetting I came from the razzle-dazzle end of the ad game. The key is to listen to what the client wants, lather, and repeat. They’ll think we’re brilliant.”

“And you’re forgetting that I’ve never even sat in on a business meeting before. I’d just feel more comfortable if we went in with a plan.”

“Trust me. I’ve been in a billion meetings and they’re all alike.

Every client says, ‘show us new concepts, real cutting edge,’ then you do that, they hate it, and invariably they end up going with the same old, same old. They hate leaving their comfort zone.

Besides, we’re all they’ve got. We’d get the job if we walked in backward wearing togas and shower shoes.”

“If you say so . . . I guess I’ll go call home and then try to reach Artie again. Did you call Richard yet?”

Stupid question. From the speed at which Beth’s smile faded, clearly she was happier in her own suite world, where she could escape all thoughts of the battle she’d left behind. Where she could think about the joy it would bring her mother to reunite with an angel from her past. Where she could reminisce about her glory days wooing clients and fantasize how she would impress the folks from Downtown Greetings so much, they would give her a chance to maybe set up her own company.

“No, I didn’t call him.” Beth plunked herself down in a comfy chair. “Nor do I plan to.”

“I’m sorry,” Mindy said. “I’m just so used to thinking of you as Beth and Richard, Richard and Beth . . . the kind of couple that would be married for a lifetime.”

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“Believe me, twelve years has felt like a lifetime.”

“That’s all you guys have been together? But Jessica is only twelve.”

“Exactly.” Beth chugged her wine. “Anyone who can do simple math without a calculator has already figured it out. . . . I was pregnant when we got married.”

“Oh.”

“And let me guess. You want to know if I would have married him anyway and the answer is yes. I was so in love it was ridiculous. I couldn’t wait to see him, talk to him . . . I was obsessed as the kids say. But talk about being young and stupid.”

“Don’t say it like that. Don’t regret a life that gave you a beautiful family.”

“I guess . . . It’s just that after making this incredible connection today between your grandmother and my mother, I finally realized something. Up until now, no matter how angry and disgusted I was with Richard, I was still thinking that I needed to find a way to make the marriage work because a divorce would be so unfair to the girls.”

“And now?” Mindy asked.

“And now I realize the person I should be the most angry and disgusted with is myself.”

“Why? You weren’t the problem.”

“It has nothing to do with that. It’s that even though I grew up knowing my life was so much more privileged than my mother’s, I took everything for granted, and now it turns out the only thing I was a victim of is my own shitty decisions. I’ve wasted all these years complaining about how much I hated my life but didn’t do a damn thing about it because I couldn’t stomach the idea of not having all the trappings, which is what they are. Things that kept me trapped in a life that made me angry and miserable . . . I even think that’s why I couldn’t be friends with you.”

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“Yeah, please explain that to me. Why did you hate me so much?”

“I didn’t hate you. I just didn’t want to be around anyone who was happy.”

“Who said I was happy? Get me names.”

“You’re not happy?”

“Not really. No. Most days I feel like the old boxer whose manager makes him stay in the ring so nobody calls him a quitter. He’s getting pounded, he’s disoriented, he’s in pain. . . . He just wants the fight to be over, but the bell rings and he’s gotta get back out there for another round.”

“Too bad I didn’t know. Misery loves company, which I’m sure is why I hung out with Jill so much. No one is more bored, lonely, or pathetic. I used to walk away thinking at least my life wasn’t as pitiful as hers.”

“How pitiful could it be when you’re driving around in a little white Mercedes convertible to go food shopping? Even her daughter drives a nicer car than me. . . . It kills me. I pull up in a minivan with a crack in the bumper and Kayla’s tooling around in a brand-new Range Rover with her initials painted on the door. And everywhere I look, all these young girls are walking around with real Louis Vuitton and Chanel.”

“I agree it’s sick. And they’re too young to understand that this is a life sentence. Once you go down that road where you have to have the latest, the hottest, the most expensive . . . there’s no going back. You become like an addict. If you don’t have it, you’ll die. You’ll even put up with a lousy marriage just to be able to walk into Saks and spend twelve hundred dollars on a Marc Jacobs pocketbook.”

“You spent twelve hundred dollars on a pocketbook?” Mindy threw a couch pillow at Beth. “You could buy a new washing machine for that.”

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“You could buy a lot of things for that. And the deal with Jill’s daughter? She may be driving a nicer car than you, but Jill and Mitch had to get an order of protection for her because she was in an abusive relationship and too strung out from alcohol and OxyContin to notice.”

“Oh my God . . . what are we doing to our kids?”

“That’s what I’m saying . . . I think this is my wake-up call. I have to get a grip on my life and my daughters’ lives before we completely lose touch with reality. I owe it to my family who never had the chance to fulfill their dreams.”

“That’s pretty profound.”

“I know . . . empowering yet simple. And the irony is, it really is what I tell the girls all the time. You want something out of life? Don’t wait to have it handed to you. Go get it!”

“But what does all that mean for you and Richard?”

“That it’s shit-or-get-off-the-pot time. I either have to throw myself into this relationship, force him to get help, and then do whatever else it takes to get us on track, or file for divorce. I can’t be in limbo like this anymore. I’m going to make a decision and then commit to it.”

“Wow. That’s amazing that you thought all that through in such a short time,” Mindy said, sighing. “The only thing that occurred to me is I think I forgot to bring a top for my skirt.”

As far as Mindy was concerned, she was already a winner. She’d gotten a free trip to Chicago, a night in a beautiful suite, and a nice dinner at the Mexican restaurant in the hotel. Too bad that lucky feeling started to fizzle like her fajita.

“Have you been listening to them?” Beth nodded at the two men at the next table.

“Yeah. The tall one just said something about Wal-Mart and private-label greeting cards.”

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“And I could swear the other guy used the words
presentation
and
Anna Jane
in the same sentence. Excuse me,” Beth cleared her throat and continued, “we couldn’t help but overhear . . . Are you meeting with Anna Jane Crandall at Downtown Greetings tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” The tall guy grunted, irritated by the interruption until he checked out Beth and corrected his posture. No man could be rude to a beautiful blonde. “Are you in on this, too?”

“What do you mean, too? We thought we were the only ones.”

“No, there’s a bunch of us. Half the people in here are presenting tomorrow. And then we found out there’s another group coming in on Monday.”

“What do you mean presenting?” Mindy gulped.

“We put together a bunch of concepts and storyboards.” The man ranked her a zero and turned to Beth. “Chris Corbin.” He shook Beth’s hand. “This is my partner, Nick DeMarco.”

“I’m Beth, and this is my partner, Mindy.”

“Howdy, Partner.” Mindy waved. She refused to be ignored.

They grunted hello but turned back to Beth.

“We’re confused,” Beth said. “All we were told to do was make up business cards.”

“Yeah, us, too,” Nick replied. “We’re Card Sharks. What about you?”

“House of Cards.” Mindy leaned in: “So, wait. You were told to put together a thing?”

“Yeah,” Chris said, and kept eating. “We basically just did what they asked in the e-mail—a ten-minute dog-and-Sony show. We’re on the retail side already. We know the drill.”

“We never got an e-mail.” Beth put her fork down.

“What are we going to do?” Mindy asked. “We’ve got squat.”

“Sucks to be you, man.” Chris chugged his beer.

“Well hold on.” Beth smiled. “Maybe you could give us a copy of the e-mail.”

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“Maybe I could, sweet cakes.” He winked. “But what’s in it for me?”

“What’s in it for you,” she winked back, “is the satisfaction of knowing you did a very nice thing for your colleagues. Plus, I’m a former art director. . . . I might be able to give you some pointers if you wanted me to critique your presentation.”

“Hell, no. We don’t need another opinion, we need the work.”

He laughed in her face. “May the best man win.” He toasted with his beer.

“I told you we needed a strategy.” Mindy checked her cell for messages as Beth unlocked their door. “Are you sure you never got an e-mail about this?”

“I’m positive, but I brought my laptop so if you want, so I’ll go online and check.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter.” She threw off her shoes. “Either way, we’re screwed.”

“Well, not necessarily . . . Richard installed that Power Point program and I used it a few times for PTA stuff. If we come up with some ideas, I could turn them into an okay presentation.”

“But what good will that do? We don’t even know what they’re looking for.”

“True, but I just thought of an idea.”

“For a line of cards?” Mindy asked.

“No. That’s your department.”

“My department? Aren’t we a team?”

“Absolutely. You’re concepts and I’m execution.”

“No, no. You said you were Miss Razzle-Dazzle. Miss Lather and Repeat. The one with all the experience.”

“Relax. I didn’t say I wouldn’t brainstorm with you, but listen.

Remember when that Chris guy mentioned that half the people in the restaurant were here for Downtown Greetings?”

“Yeah.”

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“Well, let’s go back downstairs and see if we can find someone else to help us out. Not everyone can be as much of an asshole as him.”

“No, wait,” Mindy said. “Better yet, let’s find one of the e-mails from Anna Jane. Didn’t she give us her cell number?”

“We’re not calling her now. It’s too late.”

“I don’t care. We came all this way and it’s not like she’s ten and has a bedtime. This whole thing has been wacko from day one and I want to know why!”

It took a game of telephone tag, but Mindy did eventually reach Anna Jane. Not that it cleared up the confusion.

“No need to kill yourselves for the presentation,” she said.

“Save the good stuff for me.”

“Excuse me?”

“This is for your ears only,” she lowered her voice, “but I am resigning from this loony bin very soon to set up my own little endeavor, and I would love to work with you girls.”

“Wait. What?” Mindy eyed Beth as if to say wait until you hear this. “Are you saying this thing tomorrow is all for nothing?”

“Well, no. Not for nothing. You could still be considered for the freelance project. I am just saying if we work together on my thing, it is a sure thing.”

The team from House of Cards gave it their all, for maybe an hour. Creating clever greeting cards was harder than it looked, like watching bad commercials all night and bragging you could do better, only to discover that filling thirty seconds of airtime was a mean feat.

But it wasn’t a wealth of ideas that was lacking, it was motiva-tion. Hard to get fired up about a competition, especially when with each passing glass of wine, the only thing on which they Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

275

could agree was that, like Mindy’s pocketbook, it was a fake and not even a good one at that.

“So in conclusion,” a teetering Mindy picked up her shoes,

“we would like to thank Downtown Greetings for the nice night in Chicago, but House of Cards is folding.”

Normally when Mindy drank, it was lights-out the minute her head hit the pillow. But now, not even the luxurious down comforter brought sweet dreams, for she was too busy fantasizing about stuffing it in her suitcase, courtesy of Downtown Greetings.