What Would Oprah Do (10 page)

“Cate, I love this! This is such a good idea.”

“You really think so? When we were at the beach, I almost asked you to go into business with me, but I didn’t even have a plan yet.”

“Thanks
. That was a sweet thought, but I’ve got more than I can handle with the divorce. However, I know at least two people who have boutiques that would be perfect for selling these. I could put you in touch with them.”

“Oh Lainey, that would be awesome!”

“That’s what friends are for.”

We were interrupted by Kay’s voice, “Hey ladies! I didn’t know I had company.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I should have called.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s a nice surprise. Impromptu parties are my favorite.”

I held up the now empty bottle of wine. “I’m a bad guest. I showed up uninvited, empty-handed, and I drank your wine.”

Kay smiled at us. “Drink all you want ladies. Andrew Firestone will make more.”

When I got home, I had a voicemail from James. He said that he needed to see me soon, that he wanted to talk over drinks. Yes! I realized that I had been waiting for this call, the ‘Cate, I can’t live without you and want you back’ call. He didn’t have to say it, I knew.

I would tell him that it was no use, he couldn’t win me back. I could see it coming
. The flowers he didn’t send after cheating on me would be arriving in a steady stream of big begging bouquets. I wanted to call everyone but knew they would just ruin it, telling me not to go, that I’m too good for him. It’s not that I think I owe him any of my time, but to finally get the satisfaction of him wanting me is worth it. I wish I already had my yoga body. Maybe he will send flowers so I can justify meeting him, then a grand gesture that after a lot of wooing would make it ok to take him back. I might see him and feel nothing, but at least I’ll get my dignity intact watching him try to win me back. I should pick a place with great lighting.

He once sent me roses with G
rateful Dead lyrics on the card that read ‘it must have been the roses, the roses or the ribbons in her long brown hair’. He loves my hair long and straight. I‘ll get it blown out before I meet him. I called the salon. They could fit me in Friday afternoon. After confirming that it had been more than two hours since he left a message, I sent James a text. I was afraid he’d hear the eagerness in my voice if I called him back. Carefully worded to sound busy and casual, I sent “All booked up except Friday. If it’s important could fit you in for happy hour. Andre’s at 6?”

Immediate text back, “See you then.” It wasn’t bowling me over with his desperation, but I figured he would do enough groveling at Andre’s.

Friday came quickly, although it killed me to keep it a secret. I went to Vivian’s in the morning, leaving with dirt under my nails. When I got to the salon, the manicurist said she could fit me in for a manicure and pedicure. Budget
be damned, this was important.

“Pick a color.”
She said. She looked like she couldn’t have been a day older than twenty, with blonde hair on the top of her head, and black hair coming out of the bottom layers.

You first
, I thought. I stared at the display, trying to tune out her chattering to her coworker as I looked at the shades of OPI nail polish. They were like a candy store for women. With names like ‘Cha-ching cherry’, ‘Conga line-coral’, and the classic ‘I’m not really a waitress’, I’ve always loved OPI polish. Picking up each dark color, I read the names as if there would be a magic message in the title of the perfect shade. Perhaps there was one named ‘Life sucks without Cate’. I settled on ‘We’ll always have Paris’. It was the right color, even if it was the wrong mood.

As my feet settled into the hot foot
-tub, she popped her gum and said, “So you’re getting a blow out and a mani-pedi. You must have a big date!” I smiled but didn’t say anything, hoping she would get the hint that I wasn’t interested in a personal conversation. I wished I’d had time to go to my old nail salon, where it was half the price and the only conversation that wasn’t in Vietnamese was when I was asked if I also wanted my nonexistent mustache waxed.

“If you ask me
,” she continued, “every woman should get dolled up for a night out, even if they don’t have a date. I mean, when you’re single it’s even more important.”

No one asked you
, I thought, and wondered when I had become such a bitch. I closed my eyes, as if I was going to nap while the soles of my feet were scrubbed with what felt like a Brillo pad.

Three hours later I walked out of the salon
, looking and feeling like a new woman. I couldn’t get to Andre’s first, so I drove around when his car wasn’t there at six. Quarter past, his car was there. I parked and walked in, feeling like a bombshell.

My hair was perfectly smooth and straight, with a bump at the crown. I read once that men are genetically attracted to the bump, one of those primal things like how women give off different pheromones when ovulating. Instead of my standard American manicure, I went with the dark seductive shade on my nails and toes. You may not be able to buy happiness, but you can buy hotness. Wearing fitted jeans, a black cleavage baring top, and black strappy stilettos, I was as close as I
could get to oozing sex appeal. He was at a table in the bar area. I leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, hoping he would drool at the smell of my new fragrance: Mystique.

“Thanks for coming.”
He said. I figured that was ok. It’s not like he could drop to the floor immediately. I sat across from him, crossing my legs so he could admire my perfect vamp toes in to-die-for heels.
Casual
, I reminded myself.

“Well, here I am. I don’t have a lot of time.”
I said, hoping he would go ahead and spill the ‘I need you Cate’ beans.

“You look great, by the way.”

I tried to contain my smile, so he would know that his opinion didn’t matter.

“Thanks.” I said.

T
he waiter walked up and asked what I would like to drink. James used to always order a dirty martini for me, but he was obviously trying not to be presumptuous. He was probably glad he hadn’t ordered me anything since I was clearly totally different than the person he knew six months ago. I thought about ordering a Manhattan or scotch, something different to match the new me. I couldn’t think of anything fast enough, so I ordered my usual dry, dirty martini.

“How are you, Cate?”
James asked.

“I’m great, fantastic really. I’ve started my own business, designing hats.”
It was almost true. I hadn’t designed a single hat yet, but that was just because I needed to learn how to bead jewelry.

“That’s great. Wow! I had no idea.”
He looked impressed.

“Why would you?”
I asked, hoping to seem mysterious. “There are plenty of things you don’t know about me, James. I’ve changed a lot since we were together.” I tried to push my hair back over my shoulder, since a few stray strands were starting to stick to my lip gloss. I just missed flinging my hair into my martini that the waiter was bringing from behind me. He set it down, and I took a big sip.

“Yeah, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about...change.”
This was the moment I had waited for. James was about to profess his love for me and say how amazing I was when we were together, that it was killing him to look at me now. He was going to tell me how much he’s changed to become someone who deserves me. I sipped my martini, knowing it was better to act nonchalant and let him do the talking. “I wouldn’t want you to hear it from somebody else. I’m getting married.”

I sat there, wondering if he had noticed my sexy dark nails yet, as the words hit me like a ton of bricks. “What?”
I asked.

“I’m getting married.”
He said again. “I thought you should hear it from me.”

The room was getting smaller by the second. I took another sip of my martini, which was suddenly close to empty. I waved the waiter over, trying to focus on one thing at a time. First priority, I needed another martini. It was all I could do not to tell the waiter to ‘Make it snappy!’
I reached into my purse for a cigarette, relieved that Andre’s still lets people smoke at the bar. I tried to steady my hand, not wanting James to see that I was trembling. “Married?” I asked, more than a little shocked.

“Married.”
James answered. Even with his British accent, all I could think of was Long Duck Dong from Sixteen Candles.

I smoked in silence until my martini arrived and James asked, “Cate, are you ok? I’m sorry. I knew this would be hard on you.”

“This is not hard on me.”
I snapped. “I’m fine. When? Who is she?” I asked.

“Soon.
We don’t want to wait any longer.” I cringed at the thought of him being a “we” with someone else. “It’s Jessica, my boss.”

My face grew hot. The only thing worse than James getting married was that he was going to marry
her
. She was supposed to be a mistake; the regrettable person who cost him his future with me. I could picture an old black and white film, where the woman throws a martini in some bastard’s face before waltzing out of the room. It seemed like a good idea, but I didn’t want to waste perfectly good Belvedere vodka, anymore than I trusted that my legs wouldn’t wobble out from under me.

Don’t cry
, I thought,
say something sophisticated
, but my brain spat back at me with
douche bag
. In an attempt to buy time, I reached into my purse for my phone. He would see right through it, but I could say I felt it vibrate and fake a phone call. Either way, I needed a moment to regroup. With unexpected reprieve, I saw the picture of me and Christian from Niko’s in my purse. Nimbly sliding it into my flip phone, as if it had fallen there, I grabbed my phone and quickly placed it on the table.

“Not to interrupt your fascinating story
,” I said as I flipped it open like I was checking my messages, letting the picture fall onto the table, “but my phone was vibrating.”

I feigned casual distraction, pretending I hadn’t noticed the picture. While I played a saved voicemail from Kay, I could see James out of the corner of my eye. He picked up the photo
and looked at it.

As soon as I gathered my composure, I hung up and said, “Well if that’s all you wanted to tell me, I should get going.”
I held out my hand for the picture. “Looks like I need to clean out my purse.”

“Who’s this guy?” James asked, but I couldn’t tell if there was a trace of jealousy in his voice.

“Not that it’s any of your business…” I said, sounding calm and collected. “Unlike you, I had the decency to wait until after you and I broke up to start dating. That guy is my boyfriend. Speaking of which, I need to go. He’s waiting for me.”

James nodded, “I’m happy for you, Cate.”
I wanted to scream at him, tell him that I was not happy for him, that I hoped the fleas of a thousand camels would infest his armpits. If I hadn’t blown so much money on the pretense of my own magnificence, I might have gone off on him.

As it was, I had invested too much in this meeting to give up the ruse. I grabbed my purse and stood.
“Thanks for the drinks, James. Good luck! I’m sure Jessica’s going to need it. When a man gives up his mistress, he creates a job opening.” I smiled and walked to the door while resisting every urge to look back.

I drove straight to Jill’s
. The tears I expected to run down my face at any moment never came. When she opened the door she said, “I thought we were hanging out here. You’re all dolled up for a night out.”

“I was out.”
I said. “And now I’m here. I need a drink to tell the tale.”

“Oh my…”
Jill said, grabbing vodka from her freezer. “Martini?”

I nodded. “I’ve already had two, so I’m going to have to crash here. I need to borrow pajamas too. These jeans are going to cut off my circulation if I put another thing in my body.”

I changed, and we
went to her back deck so I could smoke. “I went out for drinks with James.” I blurted it out like I was purging my sins in a confessional.

“You what?
Why the hell would you do that?”

“You would be proud of me.”
I said, certain it was partially true. “I held my ground. I lied my ass off and told him Christian was my boyfriend, but I didn’t fall to pieces or anything.”

“Why did you go out with James?”

“He called and said he needed to see me.”

Jill shook her head, clearly not amused by my lack of will power. “Curiosity killed the Cate.”
Unlike James, Jill noticed my manicure. “Oh my God, Cate, did you get your nails done for that piece of shit?”

“No,” I answered. “I got my nails done for me, so I would feel put together…and I did. I kept it together even when he told me he’s marrying his boss, Jessica.”
Then the tears came.

“Oh shit, Cate! I’m so sorry. No, he’s fucking sorry. Oh God, I’m sorry too.”
She reached over to hug me. The tears stopped as abruptly as they started.

“Fuck him!” I said, “It’s like in As Good As It Gets, when Jack Nicholson is crying after the guy comes and gets his dog. Then Jack starts laughing because he’s crying and he says, ‘Over a dog, over a damn dog.’
James is a dog, and I’m not crying over him anymore.”