CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Laurie
I was with Tanya at lunch during work, sitting at a café around the corner from our building. The café was nondescript, filled with people like us, government employees escaping from their cubes for a quick meal in the New York sunshine, light sparkling off the sidewalks, cars speeding by spewing us with fumes as we ate our pasta.
But still, a sunny, relatively warm day is rare for New York City in the fall and it seemed like everyone was here this afternoon, eager to get out of the fluorescent lighting and drab work setting. So Tanya chewed slowly, trying to avoid going back to work for as long as possible.
“We still haven’t gone up to the Bronx to check out our signs,” she reminded me, fixing me with a look. “We’re flaking on our jobs. Maybe Saunders will fire me then,” she rubbed her hands gleefully.
And I laughed.
“Tan, I know, I know,” I said ruefully. “I keep meaning to but things keep coming up.”
“But what?” asked my co-worker, rolling her eyes. “Come on, you can come to my place afterwards for some wine and dinner. What could be better than red, red wine?”
I just laughed because how to explain? I had different priorities now and that included getting home and eating dinner with my man. Tucker and I usually ordered delicious take-out before retiring upstairs with a bottle of wine, lounging in the big bed. And of course, if Tucker and I are around each other for even an hour, it means there’s gonna be sexy times, some dick in cunt or dick in ass, or both.
But I could hardly scandalize my co-worker, so I just hedged.
“It’s my divorce,” I lied, biting my lip before looking straight her in the eye. I hated lying and was bad at it, but it was just easier this way. “You know, papers and stuff.”
Tanya exhaled loudly, blowing her frizzy bangs off her forehead, her hair like a poodle’s crown.
“Paperwork, schmakerwork,” she said with a wry smile. “Seriously girl, I’ve been divorced twice and yours is taking longer than both of mine put together.”
I colored then.
“Um, I dunno,” I said lamely. “I’ll have to ask my lawyer what’s going on. Besides, shouldn’t we get back?” I asked, glancing at my watch quickly, trying to change the subject. “Oh shit, it’s almost one thirty, we better jet.”
And with that, we reached for our credit cards to split the bill. Without thinking my fingers slipped to my wallet where all my cards were, my driver’s license, health insurance, gym membership jumbled together and unthinkingly I pulled out Tucker’s card and dropped it on the table.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, the metal caught the afternoon light, glinting in our eyes, and immediately Tanya was on it, snatching the rectangle and looking at it closely.
“What is this?” she asked curiously, “this isn’t yours, is it? I see it belongs to a ‘Tucker McGrath.’”
“Oh yeah,” I stammered. “Oh sorry, wrong card, here, here’s mine,” I said, burrowing in my purse and coming up with my humble AmEx. “Here, take this,” I said, offering it, waving it under her nose.
But my co-worker couldn’t be deterred. She peered at Tucker’s name even more closely, squinting her eyes over her reading glasses.
“Laurie, why do you have this?” she asked. “You know, merchants are supposed to confiscate stolen credit cards,” she said slowly.
“It’s not stolen!” I gasped, color rising to my cheeks. “I have that legitimately.”
“Oh yeah?” asked Tanya skeptically, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest, the card still firmly in her grasp. “Honey, they don’t pay us much at HRA but there’s no need to steal,” she said seriously. “I know this divorce has wiped you out but if you need money, I can make you a personal loan.”
I gasped again. How could my friend think I was so down and out, so poor that I’d taken to swiping other people’s stuff? But Tanya just shook her head.
“Honey, like I said, I’ve been divorced twice, been through the wringer twice and it wiped me out both times,” she said with wryly. “Why do you think I was biking to work for a while? Because my last ex took my car and I had no money for a subway ticket. That’s right, not even five dollars a day for transportation, I had to fucking bike to work last winter, through snow and sleet, I practically got pneumonia.”
Holy cow, I sat back at the table, astounded. Tanya had been so down and out? I hadn’t realized, she’d said she wanted to get in shape and was biking to improve her fitness, I’d never suspected.
“Fuck that,” the blonde said bitterly. “WTF, who wants to bike through snow? I had no money, that was the real reason, ‘my health’ be damned. So tell me why you have this,” she said sternly, shaking the card again. “Seriously girl, if you’re hard-up, I can help, I’ve been saving like mad the last two years.”
I sighed.
“Tan, I would never do that to you, neither of us make much working for the city,” I said wryly. “You need every cent you earn. We both do,” I said. “But seriously, the card is legit. It’s owner … is letting me borrow it,” I stumbled, a blush rising to my cheeks.
“Borrow it?” asked Tanya, again staring at me over her glasses. They were funky green today, studded with rhinestones on the sides. “What does ‘borrow’ mean?”
“Well, he, I mean Tucker, is letting me access his credit for the time being,” I said lamely. “You know, I’ll pay him back and stuff.”
But Tanya just shook her head, not believing my lame explanation for an instant.
“Out with it,” she said, her bony fingers clutched around the card. “I’m looking for an excuse not to go back to work and this is it. So out with it, the whole story,” she commanded.
And I shook my head, helpless. I knew my friend. She has a good heart but was like a bloodhound sometimes. Once she had her nose to a scent, she didn’t let go, following a trail relentlessly. So I gave in and told Tanya everything, of how Tucker was my delivery man, how I’d ordered shampoo my first night and slept with him that same night.
“Holy shit,” said Tanya, wrinkling her brow. “You fucked your delivery man without knowing his name?” she said in a semi-loud voice.
“Shh!” I hushed her, looking around, embarrassed. Fortunately, NYC is a loud place and no one could hear over the cars rushing past, the din of other diners’ conversation. “Sort of, well yes, I did,” I admitted.
There was silence for a moment before Tanya whooped.
“You go girl!” she shrieked, reaching out for a high five. I clapped her palm, unsure exactly what she was referring to. But my coworker was only too happy to elucidate.
“Honey, you’re young, you’re pretty, you should have as much hot sex as you can,” she advised, nodding her head approvingly. “Take it from me, I’m fifty-five now and no guy wants me,” she said. “I’m all skin and bones, dry and aged, only a blind guy would be interested.”
I protested, still looking around, hoping no one could hear us. Fortunately, everyone else seemed too into their own conversations to care.
“Tanya, of course men are still interested in you, you’re an attractive woman,” I protested. “But seriously, can we talk about this later? Not now,” I said in a hushed voice, still looking around furtively.
But unfortunately, my co-worker has never been known for her discretion. Instead, she carried on in a loud voice.
“And rich too, this ‘Tucker McGrath’ is a rich man,” she said out loud, looking at the Visa admiringly again, watching as the sunlight glinted off the metal surface. “Man, you got yourself a good one, only millionaires carry this baby.”
I sat stock still for a moment, unsure of what I’d heard.
“Excuse me?” I asked slowly. “What do you mean, ‘millionaires’?”
And Tanya looked up at me.
“Oh Laurie, you’re so naïve,” she cackled. “Seriously, you’ve never seen this card before? Well, I guess not, there aren’t too many people in city government who’d qualify for this gem. This is a J.P. Morgan Palladium card, honey, the real deal. You can only get this if you have ten million under management with the bank.”
I was completely still, completely silent, my heart beating hard.
“Ten million?” I repeated, my mouth dry.
“Ten million,” confirmed Tanya. “And the average cardholder has a net worth of something like a hundred million. Trust me, I’d know,” she said ruefully. “My first ex had one, and I used to get to use it.”
My mouth dropped open now, looking like a dead fish, lips blubbery and wide. Slowly, I took the card from Tanya’s hands, my fingers sliding over the cool metal, the deep grey burnished with a rose hue.
“It must be called the Palladium because it’s plated with palladium metal, isn’t it?” I asked, more to myself than anyone else. “That’s what gives it this pink color.”
And Tanya nodded sagely.
“Yep, you don’t know much about money but at least you know your periodic table,” she smirked. “Look it up on Wiki, you’ll see. But honey, I thought you said you were dating your delivery man. How in the world did a delivery guy get a card like this? It’s his name on it, right?”
And I shook my head, my brain going at a hundred miles an hour, the world dropping out from under my feet. Because how did Tucker have this card? How in the world could a humble delivery man be a millionaire, if not a billionaire?
“Let’s go,” I said tightly, getting up from the table, not answering her question.
And we walked back to work, my head down, striding as fast as I could with Tanya trailing me, peppering me with questions that I couldn’t answer, didn’t want to hear.
“Where does Tucker live? Oooh, is his apartment fancy?”
“Does Tucker have any rich male friends? Do you think he could set me up with someone? I’d really appreciate it.”
And the questions just made me angry. Because the fact is, I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Was the apartment in Tribeca some fake, just a prop he used to seduce women? And who were Tucker’s friends? The people in the Mediterranean had never shown up, never called as far as I knew, maybe they didn’t even exist.
Fuck, I felt so stupid, so dumb. I’d been so trusting, just a naïve girl who’d been taken by a handsome man again, a master who fed me whatever I wanted to hear. Most likely Tucker had been spinning a web of lies and I’d believed it all, eating it up, no questions asked, living in my own personal La-La Land.
Why hadn’t I learned? The terrible experience with Gary had been so recent, burned me so deep, and yet here I was, making all the same mistakes just months later. Suddenly, I hated myself, loathing everything that made me me, filled with disgust for my body, my mind, my behavior.
Sitting at my desk seething, I trembled, shuddered and jerked, trying to keep my emotions subdued. But there was a tidal wave welling up inside, the bile rising bitter and venomous in my throat, my stomach churning and heaving uncontrollably. I couldn’t take it anymore and jumped up, shaking, almost coming apart with rage. I was going to confront Tucker right now, this was a fucking emergency, and there was nothing more important. So grabbing my purse, I rushed out of the building without a second glance, if I got fired, then so be it, there were other jobs out there.
With my brows drawn, face set, I strode to the subway with purposeful strides. Because I was headed to the offices of NYC Concierge, goddamn if I waited until getting home to confront the big man. And if the blow-up was in front of his unsuspecting co-workers, then so be it, they’d be getting an eyeful and an earful up the wazoo because things were volcanic now, and I didn’t care who knew.