4. Reforging Old Links
4
REFORGING OLD LINKS
PRENTICE
The world headquarters of The Arts Council, a tiny foundation of little more than extremely good intentions, was housed above a nail salon in an entirely anonymous strip mall in central Long Island. Kimmy and I were in our joint office, going over her presentation for the gala—again—when his text arrived.
It’s Mal. Am I interrupting?
I’m embarrassed to say I squealed when I read it. Kimmy looked up from her computer screen, startled.
“What?” my boss cried. “What happened?”
My heart was racing. “Nothing.” I darted a look at her and couldn’t control my grin. “Just this guy.”
“Ooh!” Kimmy was the CEO of our tiny foundation and answerable only to the board of directors, but she wasn’t much older than me. It was usually just the two of us in the office, and we’d gotten along like two peas in a pod since I’d started the previous year. I counted her as a friend, as well as an employer. “A guy . As an old married lady, I long to live vicariously through your dating life, so tell me quick! What did he say?” I held out my phone. She took it eagerly. “Who’s Mal? Save his info, quick!”
She handed me back my phone, and I made a contact card for him. “I went to high school with him.”
“High-school crush? Oh god, I need this story today. Tell me all the details!”
I was sort of dying to talk about it. “Hang on. I can find a photo to show you.” I did a quick image search for Aftermath and pulled up one of their new publicity photos. “Here—the one on the left. Not the Great Dane.”
She took the phone and squealed. “This is Aftermath! Are you kidding? The Mal who just texted you is Mal Becker ?”
“You know them?” God, it was like a brush with greatness.
“Do I know ‘Charlotte’s Lullaby’? Or ‘Street Dancing’? Or ‘Lizabella, dance with me, when you’re dancing, I feel free’? Are you kidding?”
I took my phone back, smiling proudly. “That’s one of Mal’s songs. He wrote ‘Lizabella.’ ”
Her astonishment was so delicious. “You’re not kidding? You really know the drummer from Aftermath?”
“I know all three of them. We went to high school together.”
“Oh my god. Can we get tickets?”
“You didn’t see them at the Paramount on Saturday?”
“Honey, I have a three-year-old. I don’t go to the Paramount anymore. You went?”
“I went. And afterward, that guy Johnston I told you about?—”
“Mr. Handsy?”
“That’s the guy. So, he was there, thanks to my mom telling him where I was. Johnston was bugging me, really leaning into me and acting like he owns me. Which, no. And who came up behind me and totally rescued me?”
Kimmy was wide-eyed. “Who?”
“Malcolm Becker.”
“No!”
“Yes! Johnston was insisting he was going to take me to the gala?—”
“Our gala? The one where I’m presenting?” She flapped a hand at the presentation on her screen.
“Yes, our gala. Of course Johnston’s a member of the yacht club. His grandfather founded it. I was trying to dissuade him, and Mal walked right up and put his arm around me. He kissed me here.” I touched my temple like it was a holy place. “And he said, ‘What time should I pick you up for the gala?’ ”
“He did not!”
“He totally did! And god, he is so handsome, Kimmy. I mean, I almost died.”
“How handsome? Tell me!”
“Oh, jeez, the pictures don’t do him justice. He’s got these really strong shoulders, you know? And a waist that . . . oh.” I held my hands out uselessly as if that could somehow define Mal’s shape.
“A waist you could hold onto?” Kimmy asked hopefully.
“That’s it. Like, sturdy, but—I don’t know?—”
“Snaky too?”
“Snaky! Like a man who works for a living.”
“Oh, I need that! I love Carter, but he’s so skinny. Don’t tell him I said that.”
I sketched a cross over my chest automatically. “Of course not.” My phone was still in my hand like unexploded ordnance. “I need to text Mal back. Help me out here. What do I say?”
Her eyebrows went up. “Tell him he’s not interrupting! Tell him you want to have his babies! Tell him I want to have his babies!”
Just getting out of a meeting. Give me ten minutes
“What did you send? Show me! Yeah, that’s smart. You can stall while we figure out the perfect text to send him.”
“What about the presentation?”
“Are you kidding? This is way more exciting!”
Mal replied with a thumbs-up, which Kimmy needed to see. Her glee almost matched my own. “He’s an amazing guy,” I said.
“Prentice, you’re swooning! Tell, tell!”
I sighed happily. “That guy Johnston has been tormenting me since we were little. When he did it at school, it was always the same kid who stood up to him and stopped him.”
“Mal?” Kimmy said hopefully.
“Mal. And for a long time, Johnston was bigger than Mal too. Johnston is a year older, so it was a big deal for a third grader to stand up to a fourth grader, you know? But Mal would. Johnston would try to flip up my skirt or draw on my back or something stupid, and every time Mal saw it, he’d step in. Even though he was smaller and younger.”
“A hero! A little baby hero!”
“He sure was my hero. And I’ll tell you a secret, but don’t tell anyone. Not Carter, not anyone.” She made the same cross over her heart and leaned in. I did too. “Mal got kicked out of this snotty school we were in—you know, Shield Academy—for fighting with Johnston. And everyone knew it wasn’t Mal causing the fights, but you don’t kick out Jack Furneau’s son without repercussions, right?”
Wide-eyed, Kimmy looked again at her screen, where a huge percentage of her brief presentation was designed specifically to fit the philanthropic needs of one Jack Furneau. Even a tiny drop of his charitable dollars would fund our pilot program for a year or more. “Yeah.”
“So, Mal got the boot, and he went to Caumsett.”
“Where we’re launching in two weeks.”
“That’s the one. And without anyone to challenge him, Johnston became so horrible that I . . . ugh.” The memory was still nearly overwhelming—the feeling of being trapped in a nightmare, of screaming and no one hearing me. “I actually developed an eating disorder.”
Kimmy eyed me. “You do not have any weight to lose, girl.”
“Nobody with an eating disorder does, but you’re right. It got bad pretty quickly. And my dad sat me down one evening and asked me what was going on. So I told him.”
Kimmy nodded. “How’d that go over?”
“Pretty good. My dad’s a little more accepting of human failings than my mother.”
“Queen Bitsy.” Kimmy had met my mother in the run-up to the fundraising gala, and my boss had been awed. Wouldn’t be too much to say she was actively scared of my mother. She wasn’t the only one. Bitsy was a cream puff underneath, but the outer layer was damned intimidating.
“I told my dad I wanted to transfer to Caumsett.”
“To be with Mal!”
“Well, yeah. But I said it was to get away from Johnston, which was also the truth. And Daddy convinced my mother, which, thank god.” Kimmy nodded, riveted by my history. “So I dumped Johnston—at least during school hours—and got Mal back. And the stress just . . . pffft. I could keep food down. I got back to my ballet classes. Everything was better.”
“And did Mal keep protecting you?”
“Mal protects everyone. It’s what he does. He hates bullies.”
“Oh, god. He’s such a dream. And he’s going to be at the gala. I’ll meet him?”
“Of course. He’ll be at our table with us.”
“Oh, Jesus. I need to do something about my hair!”
I laughed. Her job included fundraising, so attending the gala and schmoozing wealthy patrons was part of her brief. But she hadn’t worried about her hair until a handsome guy was going to be there with us. “You’ll look wonderful.”
She nodded at me urgently. “It’s been at least ten minutes. Text him back! Don’t lose this guy!”
“Do you mind if I take it at my desk?” I said primly.
“Yes, I do! I need to live this story through you! What are you going to say?”
“How about if I show you our conversation once we’re done?”
“Oh, hell. You’re right. I’m an old married lady. I’ll sit over here and rot while you go have a deluxe life with your deluxe little ass and your handsome men fighting over you. At least I get to sit on the sidelines.”
I gave her an impulsive hug. “I’ll keep you posted.”
“Go. Don’t let that hottie off the hook!”
I swiveled back to my desk and spent a few agonizing moments wondering what to say to Mal. But why was I tormenting myself? This was Mal. Warm, glorious Mal.
Meeting all done, I’m free now
Great. Just wanted to thank you for emailing me your contact info
Glad you got it. You must get a lot of fan mail through your website. Which is great, by the way. I love the doggy video of Charlotte
She gets more fan mail than any of us. We merely dance in attendance around our goddess
And rightly so. Whose dog is she?
Technically she belongs to all of us. She lives with Ian since he has a house and Archer and I share a crappy studio apartment but Char loves Archer the most. Like most women, she’s drawn to his animal magnetism
Then she’s not a very sophisticated girl if he’s her favorite
Do I get to blush over that?
Blush away
Wait you’re not talking about Ian are you? I know he’s hot
He is but he’s not the hero who rescued me on Saturday night
Now I AM blushing. Happy to help. Can I really take you to the gala?
You don’t mind? Do you have a concert or something?
I have several weeks completely off before we hit the recording studio. I am completely and willingly at your disposal
Now I’m the one blushing
Tell me more
Don’t be greedy. What are you doing now?
Your finger slipped. Didn’t you mean what am I wearing? (Suggestive leer)
Down boy. I meant how are you free to be texting me?
My only task for the day was lunch with my mother. Now I’m kicked back in the aforementioned crappy apartment
You and Archer share? That’s nice
The band is doing okay now. I could probably afford my own place but we signed a year lease last June when we were still starving artists. So here I lurk for another two months at least
Then where?
Depends how the album does
You guys are really getting big huh? That was an amazing concert on Saturday
Tell you a secret
Go on
I was admiring your legs before I realized it was you
How is that possible?
Saw you in the club’s spotlight. Then I was watching for you every time they lit up the crowd
You’re lying
You were at the very front of the first tier next to someone in blue jeans. Right on the rail
That’s right, I was
Told you
Mal Becker, you could turn a girl’s head
Hopefully. So I’ll really need a tuxedo for the gala?
I’m sorry about that
Don’t worry about it. Anything else I’ll need to bring? A prom corsage maybe?
No corsage necessary, just you. I’m sorry I need you to pick me up at 5. Gala doesn’t start until 7 but I’m on the stupid committee and need to be there to make sure things are set up right
Happy to spend extra time with you. Where am I picking you up?
I live in an apartment over my parents’ garage. Lame right?
Totally lame. Could only be worse if you were sharing a single room with a large blond egomaniac. Same place you lived when we were in school?
Same place where you guys played your first gig
Your birthday party. Please don’t remind me. What a nightmare
You guys were awesome
We weren’t, but thanks for lying to me
Well I thought you were awesome
You’ve always been very kind
SO HAVE YOU
I like the caps lock. Unless your finger slipped
Going to leave you in suspense on that one
Will you tell me on Saturday?
Definitely not. Unless you torture me or something
The only torture will be me on the dance floor but if you’re willing I’ll give it a try
Right. Rock drummer has a hard time keeping the beat
Just covering my ass if I fuck up
Honestly Mal you have such good credit with me that I don’t think you COULD fuck up
Blushing again. Why are you free to text all afternoon? No job?
Oh I’m working. Theoretically
What do you do?
I’m second in command (of a two-person setup) at a foundation trying to encourage kids to get involved in the arts
Seriously? That’s awesome! Like music programs?
Music, painting, dance, pottery, drama, creative writing. There are lots of options in the area. Some of the money raised at the gala will go to The Arts Council. That’s who I work for
You make me want to write a check of my own. Well at least once I have money to donate
You’re donating time to a very worthy cause . . . saving me from a fate worse than death
Johnston is still bugging you huh?
It never stopped. I just got better at defending myself
Good for you. I’ll help if you need it
Something tells me I’ll need it. He’s pretty mad at you I think
So what else is new?
I have a call I need to prepare for. Can I text you later?
Multiple weeks off. Text me literally anytime you feel like it
You might get texts at three in the morning if stress keeps me up
That would make my night. I look forward to it. Can I ask what you’re wearing at three in the morning?
Now I’m blushing again. Talk to you soon
Tonight?
No more blushing. I’m at work!
You won’t be tonight
Holy moly. My adolescent dreams were coming true. Mal Becker was definitely flirting with me.
“Kimmy! Kimmy, look at this!”