The Coffee Klatch
The Coffee Klatch
One morning in the galley kitchen, Stevie finally meets the elusive Simon Richards. He joined Mattel’s legal department almost a year ago, but they’ve never actually met. She’s passed him in the hall, seen him out in the parking lot, but she’s never been this close to him, and now she understands why her female coworkers are so taken with him. Or else she thinks it could be the power of suggestion. But no, Simon Richards is absolutely a handsome man, impossibly chiseled with a full head of dark hair and white symmetrical teeth.
He’s attempting to make a pot of coffee, and while he may be an ace with contracts and negotiations, he can’t quite figure out how the coffee machine works. She’s impressed that he’s even trying. Most of the guys just call out to the nearest female, “Pot’s empty.”
“Here,” Stevie says, taking over. “It’s a little tricky.” Her hand brushes against his as she reaches for the basket, and it sets off an unexpected flutter of excitement. It’s been so long that she’s almost forgotten what that initial spark of attraction feels like. She’s suddenly all girly-like, which really isn’t her style, but she has to admit it’s fun, electrifying.
Simon starts making small talk, asking how long she’s been at Mattel and what exactly she does here. She’s scooping coffee grounds into the basket as she speaks, glancing up whenever she can to study the golden flecks in his hazel eyes. He’s very distracting, and she loses count on the coffee.
“Do you have any idea if that was six or eight scoops?” she asks.
He laughs. “To be honest, I wasn’t paying attention to the coffee.”
Is he flirting with her? Her cheeks flush, and as she dumps the coffee grounds back into the canister to start over again, Jack appears.
“What have we here? A little coffee klatch?” He leans against the counter, sizing up the situation.
The invisible tug—or whatever it is—between Stevie and Simon goes slack.
“Hey, Simon,” Jack says, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about a licensing agreement…” Jack rambles on until he’s satisfied that whatever was brewing between Stevie and Simon is gone.
—
Elliot and Ruth used to make the rounds in the cafeteria. Back in the days when it was easy to keep track of all their employees, they would take turns having lunch with different groups: the engineers one day, the designers the next, sales the day after that. Now Mattel’s too big, and Ruth is still out sick, so Elliot looks for familiar faces to eat with.
He sees Jack sitting at a table in the back row with Stevie, Patsy and Ginger. Because of Ruth, things have been strained between him and Jack, but Elliot still wants to repair the damage, put things back the way they were, and so he heads over with his tray. When he joins them, they’re all talking about the shocking news that Janis Joplin has died from a drug overdose.
“First Jimi Hendrix and now her. Those rock stars are dropping like flies,” says Elliot.
“She was just twenty-seven,” says Ginger. She’s barely touched her soup but allows herself one plain corn tortilla, which has fewer calories than the flour ones.
“Gotta know how to handle your drugs,” says Jack.
Stevie wants to say, Remember that . On top of whatever medications his doctor has him on, plus all the booze, Jack’s recently discovered cocaine. It’s a dangerous combination, and she’s warned him to be careful.
Changing the subject, Stevie asks Elliot about Ruth. “We miss her around here,” she says.
“She’ll appreciate hearing that. She’s coming back soon. She just wants to, you know”—he glances down at his untouched burrito—“she wants to make sure she’s a hundred percent over this before she comes back.” He’s a bad liar and quickly shifts the subject away from Ruth’s health, saying that he showed her Barbie’s new Lemon Kick outfit from the 1400 series. “She just loved the yellow chiffon and those palazzo pants…”
While Elliot’s talking, Stevie gets a strange, though not altogether unpleasant, feeling. It’s hard to describe—it’s like the sensation of thermal heat building beneath the ground. She senses she’s being watched. And she is. From the other end of the cafeteria, she glances up and locks eyes with Simon. He’s seated at a long table with the other lawyers. She smiles, and when she turns back, Jack’s eyes are all over her. He knows that look. There was a time when she looked at him in that same way.
—
“How long does it take someone to get over pneumonia, anyway?” Stevie asks Jack later that day.
They needed what Jack calls a creative breather , an excuse to get out of the office and free up their imaginations. The two of them are down by the beach. They’ve left their shoes on the dock and Jack has rolled his custom-made trousers to his calves. They walk along the surf, the water sloshing over their bare feet.
“When do you think Ruth’s coming back?” she asks.
“Don’t know. Don’t care.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Well, I for one don’t miss the bitch.”
“Hey, c’mon, cool it with the Ruth bashing.”
“I know, I know, you love her.” He makes a half-hearted jazz hands gesture.
“I do. And I’m worried about her. She’s important to me. And I hate that you two don’t get along anymore.”
“It’s her fault. She’s a ball-breaker.”
“Because she’s had to be.” Stevie stops and faces him. “Do you have any idea what women in the work world are up against?”
“Oh my God. Here you go again with your women’s lib stuff. I think I liked you better before you started going to those meetings.”
“You sound like a chauvinist. You know, a man can throw his weight around and no one questions it, but if a woman exerts even a little forcefulness, she’s a ball-breaker. I happen to admire Ruth.”
“I used to admire her. Before I started to despise her.”
“Enough, Jack. I mean it.”
“Okay, I’ll shut up about her.”
“Thank you.”
They start walking again. There’s a slight breeze and the sunlight is glinting off the ocean, sparkling like a sea of diamonds.
“So,” she changes gears, trying to sound casual. “What do you think about Simon?”
“Richards? You mean Mr.Pretty Boy?”
“He’s not pretty. He’s handsome.”
“Oh, you think so, do you?”
“And what if I do?”
“Oh God, Stevie”—he stops walking—“please don’t tell me you’ve got a thing for him.”
“I’m not saying a damn word.”
“I’m losing you, aren’t I?”
“You’ll never lose me, Jack.”
“Sure I will.” He loops his arm around her waist. “Just don’t leave me yet. I still need you, kiddo.”