Come Pour the Wine Page 6

  Janet had also been shocked by Kit’s language; Kit didn’t seem the type. But she had since taken it as part of Kit’s frankness … She sat now, trying to keep back the tears.

  “I understand, Kit. Thanks for the party last night … I had a great time.” She felt like using the Anglo-Saxon word. Except in her case it would have been high irony.

  After hanging up the phone, she gave in to the tears she had been holding back. After they subsided she merely sat… Maybe she could call Bill McNeil and thank him for the ride. He was probably listed in the book—you’re going nuts, Janet, you know that? She picked up the phone and instead placed a call home. She had to touch base. Reality.

  It was six o’clock on Monday morning when Janet stepped into the shower. She hadn’t slept all night and was worn out. How, she wondered, was she going to make it through the day? But she would if it killed her.

  Kit was the last person she wanted to see today, but she knew it was inevitable.

  When Janet walked into the make-up room Kit looked up from the dressing table. “My God, you look like something the cat drug in.”

  Trying not to show her hurt and anger, she avoided Kit’s gaze. “I didn’t sleep very well last night—”

  “Well, you’d better watch it, that camera picks up every little …”

  But Janet wasn’t listening. All she could hear was the voice inside that said, Where were you when I needed a friend yesterday?

  Kit sensed Janet’s reaction and could have kicked herself for being so self-centered. The kid from Kansas had sent up a smoke signal yesterday and she’d been too insensitive to read the message … “What are you doing for lunch, Janet?”

  “I’m not going to have lunch, but thanks all the same.”

  “Now don’t be a sorehead and overreact. I’m sorry about last night … more than that I can’t be. Now, how about lunch?”

  Janet looked at Kit’s face. There was no doubt that Kit really was a very good friend. Except for Fayge, Kit was the only real friend she’d made since coming to this so-called mecca of the world. And Kit was right. She was acting like a petulant, spoiled child who ran to mommy or daddy in tears over the least little setback. “I’d like that … And Kit, I want to apologize for acting so—”

  “Forget it, where do you want to meet?”

  “Anywhere.”

  “Russian Tea Room, noon. Got to run, we’re shooting on location this morning.”

  Janet was in a mild state of inebriation when Kit arrived a half hour late. She had been embarrassed when the waiters began to look at her questioningly—almost reproachfully, she thought—as she waited for Kit, and so she had ordered a Bloody Mary just to keep the table. She was now almost through her second drink.

  Kit sat down alongside Janet and, out of breath, said, “Couldn’t help it, took longer than we thought … I see you’re having a Bloody.”

  “Two,” Janet answered, speech slightly slurred.

  “Well, girl, you’ve had your quota for the day,” Kit said, then hailed the waiter and ordered one for herself.

  “Make that the same for me,” Janet put in.

  Kit didn’t try to stop her. Maybe it was what she needed to get through whatever it was that ailed her.

  After the drinks came, Kit asked her what she felt like eating.

  “A big bowl of fettuccini with lots and lots of butter, Parmesan cheese and—”

  “Are you crazy? Do you know how many calories are—”

  “Who cares? So I won’t put Suzy Parker out of business.”

  “You won’t even work if you start eating that kind of dynamite.”

  “Who cares?” Janet repeated, taking a sip of her drink.

  “I do, damn it, and you’re not going to louse up that body with pasta because you’ve got some kind of a problem—”

  “How’d you know I have a problem?”

  Kit laughed and shook her head. “Because I’m psychic, born with mystic powers—” Kit broke off as the waiter came to take their order. “Two green salads with crabmeat. No dressing, just fresh lemon.”

  “I’d like the Louis dressing,” Janet said defiantly.

  “No you wouldn’t. Just knock it off.”

  When the waiter left, Janet whispered, “I have to go to the ladies’ room.”

  “You think you can tell the difference? The one that has Little Bo Peep on the door is …”

  But Janet was already out of the seat and walking unsteadily toward the back.

  The salads were waiting by the time Janet returned.

  “You took so long I thought maybe they had a crap game going on.”

  “No-o … I … didn’t feel too well …”

  “Last night’s dinner?”

  “Didn’t have any.”

  “Oh? Well, I think we should get down to a little girl talk,” Kit said.

  Janet watched as Kit squeezed the lemon over the crabmeat salad. Now that they were together it seemed difficult to begin. Yesterday the desperation would have poured out, but now she felt embarrassed, humiliated. Imagine going out and stalking a man she didn’t even know. It was all so crazy … so … juvenile. Kit was so worldly and sophisticated that she would probably laugh, and the one thing Janet was sure she couldn’t stand at this moment was being laughed at.

  Kit snapped her fingers.

  “Have at your salad. It will settle your stomach.”

  Toying with the food, Janet said almost inaudibly, “Tell me about Bill McNeil.”

  Kit finished chewing a mouthful of salad, all the while looking at Janet very closely, before she swallowed and said, “He’s a rat.”

  Janet blinked.

  “But how can you say that about a friend?”

  “That’s just the reason why.”

  “But you invited him to the party.”

  “So? He’s a rat I happen to love a lot.”

  Janet’s shoulders slumped and her gaze stayed on the uneaten salad in front of her.

  “I thought you were in love with Nat Weiss.”

  “I am, but there’s all kinds of love. I’ve known Bill since … I guess all my life. He went to school with my brother, our families were very close.”

  “Then why did you call him a rat?”

  “Janet, honey, let me tell you something. If you’re going to survive in this world, you can’t take everything so literally. I don’t mean he’s a rat rat. I mean …” She paused for a long moment, and when she went on her face had a new softness in it. “At one time I was really in love with him, but he didn’t feel the same about me.” Another pause, then … “I guess I was about eighteen when I went to the McNeil summer place in Maine. We were together more than at any other time of our lives. Well, to make a story short, we had a picnic one day, swam a lot, laughed a lot at silly things kids laugh about. There was a mild summer rain and we ran to the boathouse. I was shivering and he got out blankets and put one around my shoulders. I was really nuts about him. I turned to him, looked at those beautiful brown eyes and threw off the blanket. Also caution to the winds, as they say. Well, before you knew it there was lots of kissing and touching and fondling and then he was on me … or was I on him? I don’t remember. When it was over, it was over. He said how sorry he was, that he hadn’t meant it to happen, that he hoped I’d forgive him. Forgive him … that was the joke of the century. I had seduced him. He didn’t even know it. He thought it was his fault. Well, anyway, that was the first and last time I ever loved anyone quite like that.”

  “You’re still in love with him, aren’t you, Kit?”

  “Yes … I suppose I am … but he’s not in love with me. And it takes two, baby … two.”

  “Is that why you see Nat the way you do?”

  “Right … he gives me what Bill never could. Or would. And let me tell you, honey, it’s nice to be loved … nice. And the thing is, Nat loves me a whole lot. Now what else do you want to know about just plain Bill McNeil?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You don’t l
ie very convincingly, Janet.”

  “Well, I was just—”

  “You just fell for him. Why not say it?”

  Was she so transparent? Of course she was …

  “Well, say it, for God’s sake.”

  She ran her tongue around her dry lips. “Well, now that I know how you feel, it changes things.”

  “How so?”

  “Well you just told me you loved Bill and I’m your best friend—”

  “Don’t let that bother you, dear. I also told you he doesn’t love me, and nothing’s going to change that.”

  Janet had tears in her eyes. She didn’t know if they were for Kit or herself or both of them.

  “What the hell are you crying for? It’s not an Italian opera.”

  “Because—”

  “Because you fell, hard and heavy. Right?”

  “Yes. And you’re not upset?”

  “That question is so stupid I’m not even going to answer it.”

  “You mean you’re really not upset, Kit?”

  “That’s right, I’m not. Now let’s hear your saga.”

  For a long moment Janet sat looking down at her uneaten salad. Finally she started to tell how she had bumped into Bill at the party, how embarrassed and tongue-tied she had been over spilling champagne on his new suit, then how they had accidentally met downstairs and how apparent Bill’s annoyance had been over the awkward meeting. She repeated every detail and every event from that moment until now and ended with, “Can you imagine anything so stupid as going to the park and actually thinking I might meet him by chance? My God, how crazy can you get?”

  “It’s not stupid and it’s not new. Every woman who falls for a man discovers things in herself she didn’t know she possessed … and that happens to be a good word for it too. She gets possessed, does all kinds of crazy things. After which, of course, she regrets them, hates herself for her weakness and proceeds to think of all the ways to attract him, catch him … For whatever consolation it may be for you, I hear tell that some men get it pretty bad too when they take the fall … I just haven’t happened to come across any …”

  “But Kit, I’ve never ever felt like this about anyone before. Believe me. I thought I’d die yesterday, I wanted to see him so badly—”

  “I know that feeling all too well. Don’t look so surprised, Janet. I might have a tough line and front but down deep is an old marshmallow heart. I can cry when hurt too … Okay, enough philosophy. You say he didn’t look at you, much less ask you out, right? Well, we’ll just take care of that.”

  “How?”

  “Simple. I’m having a small dinner party for my birthday anyway, so I’ll sit you next to Romeo. The rest, of course, is up to you.”

  “Oh, Kit …” She felt guilty for the thoughts she’d had this morning. “Kit, are you sure you want to do this? I can understand inviting Bill to a large party but to an intimate small one, won’t it be … sort of awkward for you?”

  “Why, because I laid him once? Darling, let mama clue you in on a few facts of life. When a man doesn’t love a woman he zips up his pants and loses his memory fast. That’s how sensitive and sentimental most of them are. Besides, it happened a long time ago and I doubt Bill even thought about it after he apologized. And I might not be doing you such a big favor, you know. Even if Bill decides to carry you off to his bed, I’m not so sure you’ll thank me for it.”

  “Why?”

  “Billy is what’s called a one-nighter. A roll in the hay and that’s it. But one thing I’ll say for him, he’s damn particular who he rolls with. He’s very selective that way.”

  “You’re really bitter, Kit. Why don’t you say it?”

  “Bitter?” She laughed a bit too loudly. “Okay, I’m going to give it to you straight. Mama McNeil had a lot to do with his not wanting to get close or involved with any woman. She hasn’t let him breathe since the day he was born.”

  “Is she that difficult?”

  “Not at all. She’s simply adorable except for one thing. She smothered him rather than mothered him, and even though he’s a big boy of twenty-five she still considers him her baby. So there you are. I wouldn’t fantasize about a big church wedding and all the trimmings. I seriously doubt he’s ever going to take that plunge. Knowing him, I just can’t see that happening.”

  Janet sat silent, eyes cast down, beginning to water …

  “Oh, God, again? Listen, Janet, and carefully. You’ve got the hots for Bill McNeil. Right? So be prepared for a trip to the moon. Maybe it’s about time. On the other hand this very well might not be what you think … LOVE. It might be nothing more than a little girl from Kansas who’s ready for her first step into something called life, and sex is part of it. Since you never tried it, let it be with someone like Bill McNeil. If it goes no further, at least he’s a gentleman. Mama, though, isn’t easy to exorcize. Don’t underestimate her.”

  Kit wasted no time. Bill said he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it, but she didn’t give up easily. Besides, she’d been around Bill’s mother Violet long enough to know which guilt buttons to push.

  “You’re one crumb-bum friend,” Kit said. “I’d have thought you of all people would have remembered my birthday. Now, don’t get carried away and send me a Rolls-Royce. Just bring your sweet adorable miserable self—”

  “Hey, I’m sorry I forgot. Kit. Congratulations. If you’re having the immediate world I’ll bring a—”

  Kit quickly interrupted. “No, this year it’s going to be very small and very private and I’m only inviting close friends, so forget a date. I’m getting sentimental when it comes to sharing the most important day in my life. You want the guest list? Brother Charlie and wife Carol, and—”

  “It’s okay, surprise me, see you Saturday.”

  For the next five days Janet could think of nothing but meeting Bill again, and by Saturday night her fantasies had become so real that she sat nervously next to him at Kit’s dining table and wondered if her feelings for him were written all over her face, or if he could read her mind. She looked at Kit, who was laughing at a joke Nat had just told. Bill seemed to think it was hilarious, as did Charles and his wife Carol.

  Janet forced herself to join in the laughter, though she had hardly heard a word. Her mind was distinctly someplace else. She was remembering that Kit had advised her to come late, wearing the white matte jersey. “Let him eat his heart out, it fits like a second skin …”

  Whether he was eating his heart out or not, she had no idea. When Kit made the introductions he’d merely said, “We’ve met.”

  She had turned to jello on the spot, relieved that he remembered her but worried that it might only be with annoyance.

  Now, sitting next to him, she was uncomfortably aware of the effect of him, not only in her stomach but between her thighs … She wanted to be so exciting, exotic, a brilliant conversationalist. But on the few occasions that he spoke to her, she sat there with a fixed smile, with such snappy ripostes as … “New York? Just wonderful …” In fact, the answer to almost every inquiry he made was “wonderful, just wonderful.” She knew what he must have thought of her conversation … pure boring.

  When the cake … thank God … was finally brought in, Kit blew out the candles and Nat took up his glass of champagne in a toast. “To Kit, long live the queen.”

  They all raised their glasses and joined in the toast.

  Then came the final disaster of the evening for Janet. As she was putting her glass down, it became detached from her hand—and landed in the middle of Bill’s lap. Jolted by the cold and wet, he stood up immediately and grabbed a napkin.

  Janet merely wanted to die. Clearly God had decreed the end of this affair with Mr. Bill McNeil before it even began … “I’m so sorry, I’m really so, so—”

  “It’s okay …” But his tone implied otherwise. His pants were soaked and when he went to Kit to kiss her and say “Happy Birthday,” he added that he hadn’t been in wet pants since he was three and thought
maybe he should be excused to go home and change his diapers. Janet was destroyed….

  Charles and Carol had taken her home. It wasn’t until five in the morning, as she lay in the dark staring up at the ceiling, that she gave way to the tears, telling herself, over and over, that she had lost him.

  Nathan Weiss had been born into a wealthy family that had run a well-respected brokerage firm for over two generations now. He had cut his eyeteeth on stocks and bonds, and within a year after finishing Harvard Business School—three years younger than his classmates—Nathan Weiss was considered the boy wonder of Wall Street. If he didn’t take this status seriously, he was well aware of the enormous responsibility of handling and investing millions of dollars for other people. That had been drummed into his head from day one by his father. So, much as he adored Kit, he always left her by four o’clock on Sunday afternoons to go to his club’s steam room and have a massage to revitalize himself. He didn’t enjoy having to leave, but he needed to be in top shape for Monday morning when the market opened.

  In the beginning of their romance Kit was exasperated with him. “You’re a coward—a 6-foot, 170-pound weakling.” He would nibble on her ear lobe, smile, kiss her and leave. She would lie back and smile like a Cheshire cat. Nat left her feeling more fulfilled than if she’d slept with a half dozen men. Who needed them? It was the quality that kept her happy. Foolish smart-ass she might be, Kit told herself, but she at least knew a good thing, so to speak, when she saw it …