20
Of course, once I convinced Michael, I had to actually deliver on a venue and a group of women. A country club was an ideal starting point. These were the women who had time to go to lunch. We would go after the women who didn’t later, once we had already established ourselves as the frontrunner among women.
But which club?
Woodmont was firmly out. Larry didn’t know what I was up to yet, and that was the fastest way to get that information to him. Someone would slip out and call her husband, who would tell Larry before Michael even reached the podium to speak.
And after my experience at Emory Estates, I wasn’t sure a non-Jewish club would host Michael. They likely would—they brought in entertainers frequently of religions and races whom they would never allow to actually set foot on club grounds otherwise. But it was safer to start on something more akin to home turf.
That left Norbeck and Indian Spring. Norbeck was further out in the suburbs and therefore probably a better choice if I didn’t want Larry knowing, though Indian Spring was on Michael’s home turf. I mulled that over at my desk as the interns buzzed about. My mother would be a good person to ask—she knew everyone at all the clubs. Fran would be a good resource too. She certainly had the inside track on the country club scene.
I picked up the receiver of the newly installed phone at my desk to call my mother. Claire was doing good work because she got the phone company out already. But a familiar raised voice at the front of the office caused the receiver to slip from my hand.
While I had debated the best place to host an event to avoid Larry, the devil himself walked into the office and was currently gesticulating wildly while shouting at Stuart, who stood with his arms crossed, the first look of amusement I had yet seen on his face.
I stood up, and the movement caught Larry’s eye. He stopped yelling long enough to scowl at me. “I’m taking my wife home,” he said and went to move toward me, but Stuart blocked the path. “Move, Friedman.”
“She’s not going to be your wife much longer from what I hear,” Stuart said coolly, not budging an inch. “And I’m not letting you drag anyone out of here like you’re some caveman.”
I was almost too shocked at the show of support from Stuart to notice that an angry red hue had begun creeping up Larry’s neck. I had only seen him mad enough to change color once before and that was when someone had hurled an anti-Semitic slur at me in front of the kids. “She’s my wife,” he growled. “And she’s not working for you another minute. If you have any sense of dignity, you’ll fire her.”
“With all due respect,” a voice said from behind me, “she works for me. And no one is getting fired today.” Michael put a hand on my arm. “Would you like to go sit in my office while we handle this?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ll talk to him outside.”
“I’m going with you.”
I looked up at Michael. “He’s harmless,” I said quietly. “I won’t be long.” I turned back to Larry. “If you’re done with this little temper tantrum, I’ll talk to you outside.” And I strode past him, to the door, which Paul opened for me, allowing it to shut in Larry’s face before he reached it.
I heard the door open and then slam shut behind me, but I kept walking until I reached the street.
“You’ve made your scene, now what do you actually want?” I asked, spinning around to face Larry.
“Bev, I know you’re mad, but this is too far. People are laughing at both of us.”
“What people?”
“Everyone!” He gestured widely to the sidewalk, where a woman walked around us, pointedly ignoring our argument.
“Bizarrely, I haven’t heard a single laugh—actually, that’s not true. Michael had the crowd laughing at his event last night after I tweaked his speech.” My hands were on my hips as I stared him down. “So you must mean the people in your office are laughing. I can’t do much about that.”
He opened his mouth to lob a return volley, but instead his shoulders sank. “How much do I need to grovel?” he asked, softer now. “I want to come home. I miss you. I miss us.”
“You haven’t groveled at all. You blamed me for your affair and only seemed sorry about being caught, not about cheating.”
He set his jaw, and I watched the struggle to stay cool play out across his face. “I’m sorry,” he said, sounding anything but. “I am.”
“That’s not enough.”
“Dammit, Beverly, I’m trying here. I’m sorry I’m not perfect.”
I studied him, trying to remember why I had ever thought this pathetic little man was anything special. “I don’t want perfection,” I said slowly. “I want honesty. I want respect. I want to feel valued. And you can’t give me those things.”
“I always valued you.”
I shook my head. “You valued having dinner on the table and a pretty wife on your arm. Not me .”
The look he gave me wasn’t that of a man who wanted to fight for the love of his life. A stranger stared at me from behind familiar eyes. “And the kids? You’re okay with them growing up in a broken home?”
“You broke our home. Not me.”
“I apologized!”
“Are you Robbie’s age? You think an apology can fix whatever you did?”
“At least I’m willing to try!” The red splotches were back on his neck, but he lowered his voice. “I love you. I want to make this work.” The words were right, but his eyes were still hard as nails.
Don’t say it, I told myself as a retort bubbled up into my mind. But it rose in my throat and came tumbling out of my mouth anyway. “Do you actually want me back? Or do you just not want me working for Michael because you know I can win this?”
He laughed heartily. “You? You think you have a shot at winning?”
“I know I do.”
He continued to laugh. “Oh, Bev. No. You’re going to get crushed. And I don’t want to deal with the humiliation of people knowing my wife was the one who screwed up a campaign that badly.”
“I think we’re done here,” I said, moving around him toward the building’s door.
“We aren’t close to done,” Larry said darkly.
I spun to face him again. “Take it up with my attorney. You’ll be hearing from him soon.”
“You’re going to regret this,” he said.
“No,” I said, smiling humorlessly. “That’s you you’re thinking of.”
I opened the door and walked in, colliding immediately with Paul, who bumped into Charlie, who hit Stuart, who knocked Michael to the ground, the other three men on top of him as they fell like dominos. “Really?” I asked as they tried to extricate themselves from the besuited dogpile.
“We wanted to make sure you were okay,” Paul mumbled, shamefacedly.
“Instead you look like something out of the Three Stooges,” I said, looking pointedly at Michael, who had the good grace to look embarrassed.
But he dusted off his pants and asked me to see him in his office. My stomach dropped. He had said no one was getting fired, but Larry knew what he was doing making a scene. He couldn’t keep me on when that could happen at any moment. My shoulders wanted to sink in defeat, but I wouldn’t let them. I could argue my way out of this yet.
Stuart followed us into Michael’s office and shut the door behind him.
“Look, I can’t promise he won’t do that again, but at least you know I’m not spying for him now.”
“I shouldn’t have said that,” Stuart said quietly.
I looked at him, trying to figure out what had just happened. “Yes, you should have. I would have thought the same thing if I didn’t know me from Adam.”
“Do you have a lawyer yet?” Michael asked gently.
I shook my head, thoroughly confused.
“I’m thinking Greg Patterson,” Michael said to Stuart. “What do you think?”
“Him or William Davis.”
Michael nodded. “Greg owes me a favor, so let’s start with him.” He flipped through the Rolodex on his desk, pulled out a card, and copied the number onto a sheet of paper. “I’ll give him a call first as a heads-up. But then he’s likely your man.”
I looked down at the paper that was suddenly clutched in my hand, not knowing what to say.
“He’s a shark. You won’t have to worry about money or the house—unless you remarry.”
“Hah. The last thing I want right now is another husband.” Money though . I wouldn’t have to worry after this lawyer did his job. But I would have to pay him a retainer. I’d have to ask my father for help. Which he would give, but how humiliating. “Is this lawyer expensive?”
Michael and Stuart exchanged a glance. “Don’t worry about the money.”
“But you don’t have any,” I blurted out, clapping a hand over my mouth as I realized I had said it aloud.
Michael suppressed a smile. “Like I said, he owes me a favor. And I’m a lawyer—my campaign just isn’t funded yet.”
“Sorry. I ... Why are you doing this?”
“Purely selfish motivation,” Michael said, leaning back in his chair. “How else am I going to keep my junior campaign manager from being harassed at work?”
If I was a crier, the tears would be flowing. But that wasn’t me. “Thank you,” I said. “I won’t let you down.”
“Just work on finding that luncheon venue.”
I tilted my head. “Oh, that’s easy now that Larry knows. We’ll hold it at Woodmont. I’ll call them right after I call the lawyer.”
“Set it up,” Michael said, standing as I did.
Stuart even nodded at me as he held the door. “Thank you,” I said. “Not for the door—for earlier.”
“Also selfish,” Stuart said, with a gruffness that I now recognized as bravado. “I’ve always hated that guy.”
I grinned at him, and I thought I saw the hint of a grim smile as he closed the door behind me.
“Junior campaign manager? Are you kidding me?” I heard Stuart say through the closed door.
Clearly it had been a trick of the light, and he was just happy Larry had gotten his behind handed to him by a woman.
But I was a step closer to winning now.