Play Date (8 page)

“Plutocracy Fiction,” Nina said, rolling her
eyes. “I’ve been on the phone with Clair every day for the last two
months and now you come in at the last minute and derail
everything?”

“The problem is that no one has ever heard of
you,” said Binky. “What the hell is “Coping Hen Press’—a chicken’s
cry for help after the Zoloft’s run out? And what’s in Scottsdale,
other than Nazis and golf?”

“I thought that the best way to handle this
was to have each of you bid on the collection,” said Clair.

“You turn this into an auction at the last
minute after we’ve already flown out here?!” said Conrad.

“And that’s the problem,” said Binky. “None
of you are from here. I have a charming Federal-style stone house
at Cobcott’s Cove, just north of Snuffex. I AM Tom Railings’
country. I LIVE the landscape and culture that’s part of these
books— all of which were written here in this house, not far from
my own stone house, north of town at Cobcott’s Cove, forty-five
minutes from here.”

Suddenly the sound of a loud, high-pitch
growl interrupted all. Nina got up and looked out the window. In
the driveway, parked right next to their Chevy Cruze rental car,
she could see a sleek gray wedge that stood a few feet above the
ground. Nina would later find out that it was a Lamborghini
Aventador. A handsome man in his early thirties stepped out,
followed by a beautiful blond companion. Nina was intimidated but
she couldn’t take her eyes off either of them.

“That must be Leo,” said Clair.

“Leo? Leo Baldwin?” said Binky,
incredulously.

“Why yes,” said Clair. “Do you know him?”

“Fuck…” muttered Binky.

The doorbell rang. Clair got up to answer. In
a few moments Leo Baldwin was standing at the edge of the room.
Six-foot three, he was the proud owner of a V-shaped torso, a
pronounced cleft chin, and a head of thick black hair. His smile
was something that Nina hadn’t thought possible. “I would like to
introduce to you to Leo Baldwin and Lexi Stabler, his Director of
Fund Activities,” said Clair.

“What’s going on here,” said Binky sharply,
turning her head back and forth like a Doppler weather radar.

“We apologize for the dramatic arrival,” said
Lexi embarrassedly, “The Lamborghini was the only vehicle that was
ready to go this morning. It was not our choice to come on this
strong.”

Oh great, so she’s nice too.

“Clair, Dearest,” said Binky leaning forward
on the plush sofa, “What is a billionaire hedge fund manager doing
here at our little meeting?”

“I have an intense love for the Tom Railings
oeuvre,” said Leo, talking to Binky, but staring at Nina.

“Since when?” said Binky.

“Wait, do you know Leo?” Nina asked
Binky.

“I don’t pretend to travel in the same
circles as Leo, but we’ve crossed paths a couple times,” said
Binky.

“Yes, we have,” said Leo smiling. “And, my,
don’t we have a room full of beautiful women today?” said Leo, his
gaze still resting upon Nina.

“Give it up kids,” said Binky, standing up to
go. “We’re not going to win this one.”

“Binky, what’s wrong?” said Clair
Railings.

“I don’t like being screwed,” said Binky.

“Join the club,” said Conrad.

“We don’t have a chance with him in the
room,” said Binky, heading for the door. “He can outbid us by a
hundred times and it’s still just lunch money to him.”

“The bidding starts at three hundred and
fifty thousand,” said Clair ignoring Binky’s impending exit.

“But that was our agreed-upon sales price,”
said Nina.

“Nevertheless the bidding starts at
$350,000!” said the Clair, ignoring Nina’s protests. “Can I hear a
first bid?”

“Okay, “$355,000” said Conrad.

“$375,000” said Binky.

“$500,000” said Leo.

“I’m out,” said Binky still standing by the
door, her hand now on the knob.

“Ms. Railings,” said Conrad, “We will be
issuing a press release exposing your duplicity.

“Will that be on your influential website,
‘The Blogging Hen’?” said Binky. “The one with five hundred
page-views a year, equal to the average run of each of your
titles.”

“No, it will be a press release going to real
news organizations,” said Conrad. “Including ‘The New York Review
of Books’.”

“I assume I’m the highest bid?” said Leo. His
smoothly confident demeanor betraying someone for whom life came
effortlessly.

“Congratulations Mr. Baldwin! “You are the
winner!” said an ebullient Clair as Nina stared down at the floor,
grinding her teeth and trying to hold her temper. “And by quite a
considerable margin,” mumbled Nina, finally looking up and seeing
Leo's gaze still locked on her. How could someone so handsome
create feelings of revulsion? He was destroying Nina’s first job in
ten years! Her dream job!

And she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“Goddammit, what the hell happened in
there?!” Conrad yelled at Nina on the ferry crossing back to
Snuffex.

“What happened is that Mrs. Railings is not
the person I thought she was,” said Nina. “And don’t yell at
me.”

“You screwed up!” said Conrad, “Let’s not
mince words! You did not read Clair right. She totally blindsided
you!”

“You’ve known her longer than me,” said Nina.
“Why didn’t YOU see this coming?”

“That’s not for you to judge—I’m your
employer. I hired you to do a job and you failed.”

“We’re not the only ones who got screwed,”
said Nina. “That Binky von Claptrap was also blindsided.”

“Who cares?! We lost the books! It doesn't
matter if someone else lost too.”

“Leo blew us out of the water, said Nina.
“There was nothing we could do.”

Conrad was silent for a minute. When he
finally spoke, his tone was without emotion. “There is one thing
you can do to make this better…”

“Don’t go there, Conrad.”

“There is one way—and only one way you can
save your job…”

“No Conrad…”

“Let's go back to the car. I want my dick
sucked—right now.”

“Fuck you,” said Nina.

“That’s it then—you’re done!” said Conrad.
“We’re done!" You're fired.”

“Because we didn't get the books or because I
wouldn't sleep with you?!” said Nina.

“Both. You’re a well-rounded
disappointment.”

The bar at the Snuffex Inn transitioned
outside into the pool patio during the summer months. At 5:00 in
the afternoon in June it was a comfortable seventy-eight degrees
but there was no one in the pool and only two people sitting at the
patio bar. Nina ordered a vodka tonic while thinking about the last
thing Conrad said to her, “I’m on the ten-thirty flight tomorrow
back to Newark—make sure you are not on it.”

Someone sat down next to Nina and ordered a
Johnny Walker Blue. Nina looked over to see who was flush enough to
order such an expensive drink and saw an elegantly attired tall and
lean woman. “Binky?” said Nina.

“Oh, hello,” said Binky. “Are you staying
here?”

“At least until tomorrow. What are you doing
here? I thought you lived in Snuffex, in that Federal-style house
or whatever.”

“I just happen to like this bar,” said
Binky.

Nina’s vodka tonic arrived. She took a long
gulp, looking straight ahead at the bar, all the while thinking
about how she would have to go back to the job search grind as soon
as she got back to Scottsdale. If worse came to worse, she and the
boys could move back with mom.

“I’m guessing you’re not originally from
Scottsdale,” said Binky.

“No one is,” said Nina. “I grew up in
Cleveland.”

“You do have that corn-fed look,” said Binky.
“There are lots of nice schools in the Midwest. You should feel
proud.”

“Looking at you, something tells me I
shouldn’t,” said Nina. “What about you?”

Binky smiled, “The Stuckwell School, Williams
College, anthropology major, interned at McCann Ericsson, became an
account manager and got recruited by Goldman Sachs. Worked in the
trading department, quit after five years with lots of cash. Fell
in love, fell out of love. Started my nifty publishing imprint. I’m
surprised you haven’t heard of me.”

“Of course I should have heard of you,” said
Nina, startled by Binky’s curriculum vitae while feeling like shit.
Nina took in Binky’s languid lines, her easy beauty and effortless
intellect. Binky had been doing all the talking, but it was Nina
who was now breathless. This woman, not much older than her, had
achieved far more than Nina ever would. And Binky had done it
without kids and a philandering husband.

“I have an opening at my press,” said Binky,
leaning in towards Nina.

“You do?” said Nina.

“I have an opening for an editor.”

“An editor?!” said Nina.

“I will need an editor if I have to deal with
issuing 130 manuscripts from some obscure author that no one cares
about except for that sad idiot you’re working for…oh, and
Leo.”

“I’m not working for the idiot anymore,” said
Nina.

“Really?” said Binky. “Why is that?”

“I got fired because I blew the deal and
didn't blow him,” said Nina.

“I figured him for a creep. And yes you did
blow the deal,” said Binky. “But I did too.”

“I’ve always wanted to be an editor,” said
Nina, realizing that she had just exposed her lack of
experience.

“I would love you to be my editor,” said
Binky, “You may not be familiar with our titles, but our books have
runs in the area of fifty to a hundred thousand. For Harper
Collins, that may not be so great, but for my operation, here on
the “Adirondack Coast” on the shores of Lake Champlain, those are
killer numbers. However, I can’t support another editor if I don’t
have those Tom Railings books.”

Nina fell into a dark funk. More quid pro
quo, more pay-to-play. “I have no way of getting you those books,”
Nina said.

“Then I couldn’t possibly hire you,” said
Binky.

Nina looked downward, her eyes glued to the
bar-top.

“That's what you were doing at the house
today,” said Binky.

“What?”

“Looking downwards in defeat. People pay
attention to body language you know.”

“You obviously do.”

“And do you know who else does?” said Binky,
“Leo Baldwin. He stared at you the whole time. Even when he was
talking to Clair, he was staring at you.”

“That’s creepy,” said Nina.

“Go back to Scottsdale if you can’t deal with
sexual attraction. This guy can get any girl he wants. He certainly
doesn’t need to be staring at you. Be flattered.”

“Okay, and so?” said Nina.

“‘So?’” smiled Binky. “Is that really what
you just said? ‘So?” Look… there is an easy way to get those books
back into my possession. And I’ll help you.” Binky reached into her
purse and pulled out a credit card. “There’s a green bikini on the
mannequin in the gift shop. Green is your color—you’re going to
take my card and buy it and meet me back here in ten minutes.”

“I’m not going to walk through the hotel in a
bikini,” said Nina.

“Then buy a cover-up too,” said Binky.

In the changing room Nina slid into the
bikini bottoms and top. What the hell is this about? Is Binky some
kind of lesbian? The suit wasn’t too revealing, full-backed,
something she might have purchased herself. Nina looked at her body
in the full-height mirror. She saw some flaws, but was impressed,
wondering for how many more years she would stay this way.

She walked back through the hotel hallway and
met Binky back at the bar.

“Here, let me see,” Binky said as she undid
the tie on Nina's cover-up, pulling it open and revealing the green
bikini. “How many children?” said Binky.

“Two.”

Binky nodded. “It certainly doesn't seem to
have had any detrimental effect. You are well built, you have a
long torso, and your breasts are ample but proportionate to the
rest of your body. Everything just works.”

“Okay, and...?”

“Do you want a job?” said Binky.

“Of course.”

“Then you’ll need to do what I tell you.”

Nina rode five minutes in Binky’s Jaguar to
Binky’s stone house, pulling into the short gravel driveway. “It’s
two hundred years old,” said Binky walking up the short stone
walkway. “It’s only had four owners.”

Inside, Nina looked at the exposed wood
rafters and the large stone blocks on the walls. “The walls are a
foot thick,” said Binky, “It could take a direct hit as long as the
shell comes in from the side.”

A fireplace was in the center of the room,
two steps lower than the rest of the room. Along the outer walls
were five small rustic desks, each with thin computer screens on
top of each (the only element out of place).

Nina peeked her head into the large bedroom.
In the waning summer light Nina could see a massive extra-size king
bed with a thick beige comforter. It was piled high with a dozen
pillows stacked high, looking like the remnants of an avalanche.
Outside was the lake, and some five miles across on the opposite
end were the low mountains on the Vermont side.

“We have our meetings in the house at nine.
My five employees all live in the area.”

Nina smiled, “This must be the most charming
office on the planet.”

“You could arrive early, each morning”, said
Binky, “At maybe around 7:30, after you drop your kids off at
school. We could have some alone-time before everyone else arrives.
We could curl up in that big bed with our coffee and talk about
books.”

“Okay…” said Nina, not sure how to respond
since her answer might be the difference between unemployment and a
dream job.