Chapter 2

For the next two days, John kept thinking about that night. He wondered if he should buy the painting or not; he wasn’t sure if he really wanted it. He was also thinking about Carol and whether he should call Rita. It didn’t make sense to him that he would be attracted to a woman he’d only seen for a couple of minutes, but he was. He tried to understand what Rita had seen that night that made her so sure he was interested in her roommate. He wondered if he really was interested or if it was just a thought that Rita had put into his mind. He decided he was wondering too much. That evening he picked up the phone and dialed Rita’s number. After several rings he heard her familiar voice.

“Hello?”

“Rita, it’s John Drake, from the other night.”

“Yes, John, what’s up?”

“I’ve been thinking about that Dempsey’s painting, I can’t spend the money for the painting, but I would like a photograph of it, like you said.”

“Oh sure, not a problem. Let me check at the gallery to see if we had any copies made already. If we do, you can get it any time you like, if not, it’ll take a couple of days. Anything else?”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about what you said about Carol.”

“Yes and...”

“I think I might like to take her out, you know, get to know her a little better. I was just wondering if you think she’d go.”

“Probably would, I don’t see why not.” Then in a distracted tone, “John, just wait a minute please.”

He heard the sound of the receiver being set down, followed by silence. After a short wait, a different voice spoke.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this Carol?”

“Yes it is.”

“It’s John Drake, I was at your apartment the other night with Rita.”

“Yes I remember. How are you?”

“Fine, good,” it occurred to him Rita hadn’t talked to her at all; instead she’d thrown them together on the phone cold turkey. “Look, I know we only met for a few minutes, but I kind of thought maybe we could, ah, you know, see each other again? Maybe, uh, over dinner or something?”

He heard a funny sound on the phone, then Carol’s voice heavily muffled. She’d apparently placed her hand over the mouthpiece to speak to Rita, however he could make out her words, sounding distant but distinct.

“It’s cute, he’s stammering.”

John felt a surge of humiliation wash through his brain. He actually wanted to hang up, or take his offer back. He knew, though, that would just make it all worse. He tried to make his voice sound as light hearted as he could.

“Yes I am.”

“Huh?” The grunted response was in normal volume.

“Yes, I was stammering.” Then in a Low voice, almost a whisper, “Carol, I could hear you.”

There was a short period of dead silence before she answered.

“Oh God, John, I didn’t mean anything, please, I wasn’t trying to offend, I just thought it was kind of sweet.” It was her turn to search for words, “It’s just that it’s been a long time since anyone was nervous about asking me out. Don’t be mad, I didn’t mean anything.”

“OK,” he felt as if he was back on equal footing with her, if not in control. “I’m not mad, but you still haven’t answered the question.”

“Yes, of course, I’d like to have dinner with you. You have any day or time in mind?”

“Free Saturday night?”

“I am.”

“How about around seven?”

“I’ll be waiting. Any idea about where we’ll be going. Just so I know how to dress.”

“Depends on what you like. You’re not a vegetarian or vegan or something, are you?”

“No, not at all.”

“Good, I feel like hitting a steak house. A strip steak and a couple of beers sound good to me. How about you?”

“I like steak, don’t get it that often, so yes. Sounds real good to me.”

“Well that’s it then. You don’t have to dress up too much to go to one.”

“I’ll be ready at seven then, and please, if I insulted you before, I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t worry, it’s ancient history, I’m well over it. I’ll see you Saturday.”

Saturday night he climbed up the stairs of their building and approached the apartment door. For some reason he was uneasy, possibly because in his brief dealings with them both women appeared to be unpredictable. He didn’t know what to expect, had not a clue. While this added a certain excitement to it all, it was also slightly unnerving.

He rang the bell, seconds later the door opened as far as the security chain would allow. Carol glanced out at him through the crack between the door and the jam.

“Just a sec,” she said, then closed the door enough to unhook the chain. She swung it open. “Come on in for a moment. I’m just putting on the finishing touches.”

It was the first real look he had of her. There was tiredness about her eyes that he hadn’t noticed at their previous meeting. Her smile was the type one gives at a complaint desk, anxious and tentative. He realized she was as unsure of herself as he was. This put them on even terms footing, somewhere inside he began to relax, his self-assurance returning.

“Finishing touches? I don’t see where you need any; you’re looking pretty good to me.”

“Oh, thanks, that’s sweet.” Her smile returned to a more natural state, more genuine and less tense. “Trust me though, I’m at an age where I need all the help I can get.”

“I think you’re being a little hard on yourself, but if it makes you feel better, it’ll be worth the wait.”

It was one of those statements that sounded better in his head than it did when he spoke it. He meant it to be charming, but it sounded too him somewhat condescending. He hoped she took it in the spirit it was intended. Then he decided he was over-thinking the whole thing. The phrase “just be natural” ran through his head. He decided to stop worrying and just be himself.

He sat down on the sofa and waited while she disappeared into the bedroom. It was a brief reprieve, giving him time to regroup. He had hoped Rita would be there to act as an intermediary between him and this woman who he didn’t know at all, to help smooth things over. But then he remembered the way she’d thrown them together without warning on the phone. Apparently Rita believed in the sink or swim principle, just toss you into deep water and let you figure out what to do. Perhaps she was right, both he and Carol were adults and should be able to handle themselves without interference. She was probably right.

Finally Carol emerged from the bedroom. To be honest, he didn’t see any difference in her. He had no idea what the finishing touches she’d applied were, but if she felt she’d needed them and they made her feel better, it was well worth the wait. He was already developing a certain fondness for her. He found this surprising and somewhat confusing, while always outwardly polite, he wasn’t one to take to people this quickly.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“No problem, it was worth it. Now, somebody recommended a steak place that’s not too far from here, within walking distance, long walking distance, but I figured it was better than taking a cab or the subway uptown or me trying to find a place to park my car. We could drive somewhere if you don’t want to walk.”

“Oh no, it’s a good night for a stroll. I’m used to walking actually, I kind of like it.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind? I know all women’s shoes aren’t good for strolling in.”

“No problem here, these are pretty comfortable.”

So they set out, Carol was right; it was a good night for a walk. Neither too warm nor too cool, it was just comfortable. Moving through the city blocks, John had a deja vu feeling; a flashback to his days at NYU when he walked many of these same streets. He was also intensely aware of the woman at his side, the scent of her perfume, the sound of her heels hitting the pavement as they walked. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking.

“Where’s Rita tonight, having a big night on the town?”

“No, she’s working, Friday and Saturday nights are her big nights. The week end crowd.”

“Oh, you mean dancing?”

“Yeah, but we’re pretty honest about it; we’re strippers.”

“Oh, you too?” She nodded her answer. “I didn’t know. Weekends aren’t big for you?”

“Not really, I mostly pick up some time in the afternoons. The prime time I leave for the younger prettier ones like Rita. It’s a different, smaller crowd during the day. They don’t mind if the girls are a little older, a little shop worn. In fact, I think some prefer it.”

“Well, you’re not really that old, what’s the problem?”

“In that business, I’m an antique, a relic of past glory. Rita’s actually kind of old for prime time too, but she has that body that a lot of guys go for; kind of lush and full breasted. And her personality seems to come across too, that helps. I think she kind of enjoys it.”

“And you don’t?”

“Not really, it’s just a job. It’s a way to pay some bills, that’s all.”

“Are you an artist too?”

“No, I came to New York twenty some years ago to become an actress. That didn’t work out too well, but I stayed on.”

“That’s interesting, no success at all?”

“No, not especially. I went to a lot of cattle calls and did manage to get into the chorus line of a couple shows that didn’t last very long. It just wasn’t in the cards.”

He felt himself growing close to this strange woman. He didn’t understand it, but he had an urge to put his arm around her, to hold her, to reassure her she wasn’t so old, to give her some explanation as to why she didn’t make it as an actress. But it was too soon for that, and he didn’t have any answers anyway. They walked the rest of the way making only small talk; mostly about the weather and how much Manhattan had changed down through the years and about how much Manhattan hadn’t changed down through the years. John noted how odd it was that one place could change so much yet remain essentially the same. Then he glanced at Carol and thought to himself that perhaps it’s the same with people, perhaps inside she was the same innocent girl who’d come to the city with dreams of stardom. He really wanted to find out.

At the restaurant, seated across the table from her, John had an opportunity to study Carol. He saw once again the tiredness in her eyes and also saw there was more to it than that. Her whole general countenance seemed to be one of someone who has been beaten down by life; world weary. He understood why she had referred to herself as shop worn. Despite all that, she still had an attractive face, one that showed character. Actually he found her more interesting because of it.

They ordered drinks, beer for him, wine for her. Then as the studied the menus she lowered hers and looked at him.

“Look, you should know, Rita and I usually order heavy on dinner dates so we can take the leftovers home.”

He continued studying the menu almost as if he didn’t hear her.

“There’s a twenty four ounce strip steak on the menu that looks pretty good.”

“So, you don’t mind? I don’t want to take advantage of the situation.”

He looked at her and realized this was a woman who’d probably been taken advantage often in her lifetime, and wasn’t willing to do the same to others. The character he’d seen in her face was showing itself. He’d have been willing to buy her ten steaks if she wanted them.

“Hey, if you want the steak, go ahead and order it. Once you do, it’s yours, do with it what you want. It’s none of my business”

It seemed to him to be harsh statement, even though he hadn’t intended it to be. He had been trying to be flip but now was afraid he had come off as cynical or even patronizing. He looked at her, smiled and winked an eye, hoping that that would take any unintended edge off his words. He had the feeling he used to get as a teenager, when he would struggle around girls trying to get every word right, afraid even the wrong inflection would give them the impression he was a jerk.

She, however, returned his smile with one of her own. Looking dead into his eyes, her smile was actually quite beautiful. Open mouthed, showing her upper teeth, it had lost that lopsided look he’d noticed previously. It also put him at ease, at that moment he felt they’d become friends. He took a deep breath and exhaled. He could now relax with her and be himself; he could only hope she felt the same way.

As they sat waiting for their dinners, John decided he wanted to know more about her. He’d had enough of the chit chat.

“So tell me, when you came to be an actress, was there a specific genre you were interested in? You know, musicals, comedy, drama, or didn’t it matter?”

“No, I was game for anything. I could sing a bit and had taken dance lessons when I was a kid, but I would have taken anything. You know how it is when you’re young, you think anything is possible. I was no exception.”

“Yeah, I can relate to that.”

“That’s right; you wanted to be a writer. Tell me how that went.”

“About the same as you, I spent a couple of years trying to write, finished a novel; that was the start of my rejection slip collection. Had a couple of short stories published in some college quarterlies, a couple of articles in some very small magazines. I gave it up as a lost cause. I couldn’t even get an agent.”

“Well, we have that in common, I mean I did get an agent, but he wasn’t worth a good God damn. He kind of hinted I could sleep my way to the top. Once he got me in bed a couple of times, he moved on to the next wanna’ be starlet. I more or less got pimped out to a few of his contacts that he wanted favors from.”

“Damn, that was one rough lesson.”

“Yeah, unfortunately I didn’t learn from it. What’s the old cliché’ about learn from your mistakes or you’re condemned to repeat them? I was a slow learner.”

Their conversation was interrupted when their food arrived, but he was haunted by her last words. He remembered Rita’s warning that Carol came with baggage, that she was damaged, literally a soiled dove. He was beginning to understand, and oddly, the damage made her more endearing to him.

“Oh God,” she remarked looking at the slab of meat in front of her, “it’s the size of a small roast. I feel guilty for ordering it.”

“Don’t worry about it, I know how it works, remember, I’m the guy who helped Rita swipe a couple of pastrami sandwiches and a bottle of champagne the other night. Enjoy it.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to take some home with you?”

“No, do you think when I finish this,” he tapped the sixteen ounce streak in front of him with his knife, “I’m still going to want more? Besides, on a first date, a guy will do anything to impress a girl.”

“If you put it that way,” she never finished the statement, merely cut into her steak and started eating.

Their conversation during the meal was sparse, consisting of the usual comments about the quality of the food or which side orders were best. John couldn’t help looking up occasionally to watch her eat. One time, while he was trying to steal a glance, she looked up at him. Their eyes met and she gave a shy closed mouth smile, then quickly looked down at her plate as if embarrassed. Though neither one realized it, at that moment his heart belonged to her. Things between them would never be quite the same.

Later, when they left the restaurant, as they walked down the street John reached down and took her hand. She looked over at him and flashed the smile. Then quickly she sidestepped, playfully bumping into him.

“Taking liberties there, aren’t you buddy?” she teased him.

“Damned right,” he laughed.

“What kind of a girl do you think I am?”

“The kind that I desperately want to take liberties with.”

“OK, just wanted to know.” With that she jostled him a second time.

“You in a rush to get home? I was thinking maybe we could go somewhere else and do something. I’m not sure what, a movie or just a couple of drinks somewhere where we could talk.”

“I like the talking idea. I know a place not too far from my building. It’s nothing fancy, just a neighborhood place, but it’s nice.”

“Sounds good to me, if you recommend it.”

The bar was exactly what she said it was; just what you would expect from a neighborhood place. Long and relatively narrow, the bar on one side with a low freestanding partition running part way down the other, hiding some small tables from view. Down the far end, past the partition, were several booths. The bar was busy; all but a few stools were occupied as were a couple of the booths. The bartender was a short heavy set man wearing a white short sleeved shirt and matching apron. The collar of his shirt was unbuttoned and a clip-on bow tie was hanging loosely from one lapel. He looked over-worked and unfriendly. Seeing Carol standing an open spot at the bar, he came over. Like many New Yorkers, his miserable demeanor hid a basically friendly mature.