Authors: Tara McTiernan
Bianca and Lucie had become friends within the first two months that Bianca worked at Pinnacle, often lunching together on the Avenue, regularly stopping by each other’s desks to catch up, always pitching in to help each other during crunch time. Lucie was even considering inviting Bianca over for dinner at her apartment when Bianca said something strange one evening.
They were working late, talking over the table in the workroom while assembling booklets for a client presentation. The subject of the well-married women they saw on the Avenue daily – shopping, lunching with each other, flitting in and out of the Avenue’s spas and salons – had come up and Lucie was wondering aloud how they could take it: sometimes being nothing more than a prized trophy to the man they were married to, being held to such high physical standards, living constantly under the Sword of Damocles of encroaching age and subsequent expiration.
“Oh, I could handle it, believe me,” Bianca said, nodding.
“What, for the money? It wouldn’t be worth it,” Lucie said.
“For the money, sure. Honestly, as long as his wallet’s fat, I don’t care how old or fat he is. A girl’s gotta have priorities,” Bianca said, lightly.
“You’re kidding.”
Bianca placed the booklet she’d just bound on top of the pile and looked at Lucie, raising a perfectly-shaped eyebrow. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”
At that, Lucie didn’t know what to say. Uncomfortable, she simply shrugged and looked away, focusing on the pile of collated documents to punch and bind, trying not to think the worst of Bianca.
But then Bianca went ahead and proved the worst.
A few weeks had passed and their friendship had cooled a bit. They hadn't gone out to lunch in awhile and, though they still stopped by each other's desks, the visits were perfunctory and polite rather than warm and cozy as they had been. It seemed that Lucie wasn't the only one who'd been offended by their conversation; Bianca's distant manner suggested disturbance on her side as well. Lucie was disappointed. She liked Bianca enormously - if only she hadn't said something so shallow and blatantly materialistic. It didn't seem like her.
Lucie was working late again on a Thursday night, this time without Bianca's assistance. Bill ensconced in his office on a conference call and her eyes hurting from staring at the spreadsheet she was working on for him, Lucie decided to rest her eyes and stretch her legs by taking a turn around the office. As the office took up the entire top floor of the building, it was a perfect rectangle for a circuit.
She limped slowly, luxuriating in not feeling observed and paranoid about her bad hip. As she passed the fresh flower arrangements that dotted the office and were refreshed weekly, she stopped to dip her face in the petals and breathe in their perfume, something she longed to do all day but restrained herself while people were around. Now, at eight in the evening, the office was empty for the most part. Only a few offices were still lit, their occupants hunched in front of their computers. Soon the cleaning crew would be coming in with their rattling garbage cans and carts loaded with various odiferous sprays and polishes.
As she turned the corner for the last stretch of hallway before arriving back at her cubicle, she saw that someone had left the lights on in the small conference room that was typically used by Bill’s sales team, all of whom were gone for the day. An interior room with smoked glass walls that ended halfway to the ceiling, it gave the illusion of privacy, but anyone walking by could listen in on any conversations within, making it popular with the sales guys who liked to be overheard blowing a lot of self-satisfied hot air.
Lucie reached for the door handle to the conference room just as she heard a low growling moan. She hesitated. Silence. That was an odd sound?
She shrugged, pulled open the door to the room and started to cross to the row of lit green tabletop lamps that ran down the center of the conference table when she saw what had made the noise.
At the far end of the table, Al Miller, CEO of Pinnacle Funds and one of the wealthiest men in Greenwich who was very married with three young children at home, was leaning back in one of the conference room's leather chairs with his hands behind his head in a posture of relaxation, his neck arched and mouth half-open in ecstasy, while a dark-haired head bobbed at his lap. The rest of the person was hidden below the table.
Lucie stuttered to a stop, eyes bulging, unable to tear her eyes away. Slowly, Al’s head turned to look at her and his open mouth shut and tightened. Then his hand went out to tap the person’s shoulder below him. The dark-haired head that had been relentlessly rising and falling lifted and large heavy-lidded eyes regarded her. Bianca’s mouth was puffy and raw looking.
Taking a stumbling step backward, Lucie almost fell before grabbing the door frame, and then catapulted herself away from the room using the leverage from her grip on the doorway and her good leg. Her face burning, she hobbled as fast as she could down the hallway and back to the safety of her cubicle. What was she going to do? In her mind's eye an endless loop was playing of Bianca's face appearing from beneath the conference room table. She felt both appalled and bourgeois for caring. Was it her business at all?
Frozen by indecision about what to say or do about what she had witnessed, she never said a word to anyone. The next day Bianca was gone and she didn’t return. Word was that she had been fired for insubordination, which was darkly comical considering the truth. Lucie was both relieved and anxious, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Al to have her removed as well, for the stench of the whole sordid thing to permeate the office. But nothing happened, except for Al studiously avoiding Lucie whenever he saw her. And she never saw Bianca again. Until today.
Feeling the stinging shock shooting through her, Lucie tried to keep her face impassive. Did Bianca recognize her? It had been six years since they last saw each other and Lucie's hair was now naturally brown again and cut in a short pixie instead of the highlighted longer hair of her twenties. More importantly, did Bianca blame Lucie for what had happened? Even though the fault was clearly with Bianca and Al, Lucie had found that people often preferred to shift blame for their own misdeeds to convenient bystanders and bit-players.
Bianca’s expression remained aloof and amused, not a tic or a flinch. Lucie took a big breath and hoped.
Chelsea said, “Lucie was just telling us about her new catering business. Isn’t it exciting? I’m so jealous. Oh, that’s right. You haven’t met Lucie yet! This is Lucie, from work! Well, at least she used to be from work. Lucie, I’m so psyched you can finally meet Bianca. She’s my bestie from way back. High school, we were like, glued at the hip or something. Well, until junior year when Bianca-“
“So glad to meet you,” Bianca interrupted, stretching out her hand.
Lucie jerked a little with surprise and, not knowing what else to do, shook it. Bianca’s palm was warm and dry. Pulling away, Lucie felt that her sweaty hand must have left a moist smear on Bianca’s and surreptitiously placed her hand flat on the absorbent fabric of her lightweight silk jacket. "Same here."
"Oh, this is great!" Chelsea said. "Now that we're all here, let's get a table and eat. I'm starved."
"Well," Bianca said. "We're not
all
here yet. I invited someone to join us. I hope you don't mind."
"Really? Who? Not John?" Chelsea said, blinking rapidly and looking flustered.
"John?" Bianca said, turning to look at Chelsea. "Why?"
Chelsea's large blue eyes grew enormous and she shook her head, "No reason! Just wondering how he is!"
Bianca regarded her for a beat longer and then shrugged. "He's fine. No, I invited one of my doctor's wives. She's new in town and I thought she'd like to join us. That's okay?"
"Oh!" Chelsea said, nodding enthusiastically. "Definitely! The more the merrier!"
Lucie looked at Chelsea and then at Bianca and wondered what was going on. Who was John?
Sharon said, “You know, that’s perfect. I was going to head out and, now that you have four, you’ll be better off anyway. It’s a lot easier to get a four-top.”
“Four top? What’s that?” Chelsea said,
“Waitressing lingo. Four top, table that seats four. From those lovely college years when that was the best-paying job I could get. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow, Chel. Great meeting you all,” Sharon said, raising her chin to Bianca and then Lucie.
“But wait,” Lucie said, seeing Chelsea starting to stamp her foot out of the corner of her eye. “You used to waitress? I was hoping to interview a waitress and get some tips. I know food, but I have not the first clue about service. Any chance you’d stay for dinner and give me some pointers? You’d be doing me a huge favor.”
Sharon slumped a little, her head going to the side. “You guys are really not going to let me go, are you?” Though she smiled a little as she said it.
“No!” Chelsea said. “We’re not! I’m going to go put us down for a table for five right now before you change your mind again.” She turned on her heel and started making her way through the crowd toward the hostess’s podium.
"Well, that's that, then, huh?" Sharon said and sighed, watching Chelsea disappear into the wall of bodies.
“Speaking of favors,” Bianca said, “I’d love to have your business card if you have one. I’ve been looking for a good caterer.”
Lucie looked back at Bianca. The last person on earth she would want to work for. Should she pretend that she didn’t have one? But then she wouldn’t be able to take advantage of this evening to hand out cards as she planned. And she had to. She had to get her business off the ground as fast as she could before she ran through her savings. What to do? Well, Bianca was probably looking for someone to cater a big party and that would take care of the whole problem. “Um, I’d be happy to, but, just so you know, I only do little parties. I max out at twelve people to serve. I don’t have the staff or the ability to do bigger parties or events. It’s…more than I can handle. If you want that, Farmer’s Day is supposed to be pretty good.”
Bianca closed her eyes briefly and smiled while shaking her head before opening them again slowly like a relaxed cat. “Oh, their catering is dreadful. Salmon, salmon, salmon. And dried out chicken that practically splinters in your mouth. Actually, a small dinner party was exactly what I had in mind.”
"Oh, okay." Dread making her arms heavy, Lucie slowly lifted up her purse and searched through it for her wallet. She found her business cards and gave Bianca one, trying to smile and look relaxed and realizing her face was twitching weirdly.
“Thank you,” Bianca said, her smile warm and friendly. She looked at the card. “Petite Soiree. What a wonderful name!”
“Oh, thanks. I…” Lucie couldn’t think of what to say. She cringed inwardly, thinking of the evening ahead in the company of this woman. Worse, Bianca was just as engaging and appealing as she used to be, back before Lucie knew the truth. Or was it the truth? Had Lucie been too quick to judge her? Maybe it had just been a terrible moment in Bianca's life, one she regretted and wished she could forget?
At that moment, Lucie felt a tickle on her hip and realized her purse was buzzing. Her phone. She put her hand up. "I'm sorry, but I've got to get this call. Be right back."
Sharon and Bianca nodded and smiled politely just as a tall blond man with a chiseled handsome face tapped Bianca on the shoulder, "Do I know you?" he asked when Bianca twisted to look up at him.
Making her way through the crowd toward the bathrooms where it might be quieter, Lucie pulled her phone out of her purse and answered it. "Hello?"
A deep unintelligible voice said something.
"Hello? I'm sorry, it's loud in here. Hold on a sec." She made it to the bathroom door and pushed it open to find a quiet low-lit interior, a lone woman washing her hands at the trough-like stone sink. "Sorry. I can hear you now."
"Lucie, it's Dad."
"Dad! Uh, what's up? Is everything okay?" She closed her eyes and prayed they hadn't found out about her hiring Erin. She had promised them she would stop rescuing her stepsister; said that she understood that Erin needed to learn things the hard way and would never learn while Lucie was protecting her from life's school of hard knocks.