Chapter 27
T hese past couple of weeks have been a clusterfuck. A nonstop circus. Case in point, this conversation. I have many talents, but subtlety isn’t one of them. Kaplan says there is no filter between my brain and my face and he’s right.
“Jenny, you can’t do pastel pink and baby-blue linens and balloons.”
She’s staring at me—as she always does—as if I’m the Antichrist in her world, which likely I am.
Take a number, sweetheart. My cousin has first dibs on that.
My cousin who is thankfully now back home in California with her mother and getting some help.
My aunt put her in therapy. She still won’t return my calls or texts and openly hates me for “ruining” her life.
Whatever. At least she’s safe and no longer much of a threat.
I think by this point, if she were going to say something, she would have.
“Explain to me why not,” Jenny snaps, popping her pink gum just to be annoying.
I glance over her shoulder at Charlie and Greta, who are hovering by the opening of the kitchen, trying not to make their laughter audible and then back over to Jenny. “Because this isn’t a gender reveal baby shower. This is a classy gala.”
Roberta let her pick the band and I can only pray we don’t regret that decision. Jenny has overseen aesthetics for this event and when Roberta initially put her in that role, I’m not sure she considered who we were working with.
For the foundation, Kaplan has been dealing with all the budgetary and proposals as well as some of the operations matters that require his direct oversight, but when it comes to this gala, he’s washed his hands of it with the exception of final veto power.
This was his final veto.
He saw the mock-up Jenny hand-delivered—all the way to the hospital, I might add—and he called me immediately after telling me I had to step in on this.
He doesn’t have time. I get it. Surgeon of tiny human hearts, he likes to remind me.
Not to mention the media storm that has circled around him for the last two weeks.
I haven’t watched any of it, but he’s been followed relentlessly.
He’s had demands for interviews from everyone from local newspapers to national news networks to freaking late-night talk shows.
All of which he’s refused because that’s Kaplan for you.
Doctor Untouchable. Hater of the spotlight despite the world thrusting him back into it time and time again.
He’s also spending as much time with his family and new nephew as he can.
That might be one of the most endearing things about him. His unremitting loyalty and love for his family.
Between his job at the hospital, the stuff he has to do for the foundation, my job here, my art, wanting to avoid being seen together by the press, we haven’t seen much of each other this week.
It’s Thursday and Kaplan told me he was going to try to get off early and I told him I wasn’t going to go to Chelsea tonight.
The plan is food and sex. A lot of hot, dirty sex.
Toe-curling, multi-orgasmic, vagina-ruining sex.
It requires discretion and craftiness if we’re going to keep this thing—whatever this thing between us is—quiet.
I’m trying to find the rosy side of this latest media madness.
Pretending that all the sneaking around is fun.
A bit dangerous and slightly taboo. That is if screwing your boss who was your stepbrother’s BFF, is eleven years older than you, famous as a Kennedy, and has a wild side you’re desperate to explore more of could be considered taboo.
More like stupid and reckless and asking for heartbreak and disaster, but a girl can play, right?
Which brings me back to Jenny. Jenny who looks nothing like the woman Kaplan Fritz actually wants. It has me smirking and she notices.
“Why are you smirking at me like that?” It’s a frustrated half shriek
Oops. “Because I think you’re intentionally trying to sabotage this whole gala because it was my idea and you had us assigned for three separate gigs.”
There I said it. It needed to be said.
She flushes ever so lightly, shifting her stance and looking to her left. With a scoff she flings her long, blonde hair over her shoulder. “Why would I do that? I love what I do here. I’d never hurt the Abbot Foundation.”
Uh-huh. Tell it to a judge, honey, because you ain’t foolin’ this jury.
“Because I’m Kaplan’s assistant. Because I work at the hospital three mornings a week with him.
Because you feel entitled to the job I have since you’ve been here longer than me and are just as equally if not more qualified.
I get it, Jenny. I do. But ruining this gala in the name of vengeance won’t make you look good.
You’re smart. You’re beautiful. You’ve got so many things going for you.
Ask yourself honestly why I’m in this role and you’re not.
You said it on day one. But you’re missing the point in all of this. ”
“What, that you’re the ugly, fat girl Kaplan won’t fuck or fall for, so it’s you in this job and not me?”
Sigh. Then I give her a louder one that is purely for show because, women, when did trashing each other become what we do?
Especially in the name of a man. Just no!
I don’t even need to point out how wrong she is.
That Kaplan doesn’t seem to want what society dictates he should.
Everything that Jenny has been trying to be, which again, is sad.
“You don’t need to work a job just so you can try to woo a billionaire into a loveless marriage.
Because let me tell you, as someone who was on the flip side of that, my ex was not going to get a penny out of me because prenups are no joke.
And honestly, you can be so much better than that.
You are so much better than that. Do yourself a favor, okay?
Work your ass off. Showcase your brain and your talent.
Make your own billions and blaze your own trail in this world.
And never put yourself in a position where a man is your endgame. ”
She blinks at me as if I just spoke pig Latin to her.
“You’re just saying that because you want him for yourself.”
Ugh. “Jenny! Fine.” I throw my hands out in the air, ready to strangle her scrawny neck.
“Be nutty about this but quit trying to throw off the gala with ugly-ass baby shower decor. Elegant flowers in eye catching but not flamboyant shades. Candles on tall pillars. Votives for ambience. Uplighting along the walls and hard surfaces. Silky fabrics in muted colors. Cool lighting displays with the charities’ names floating across the dance floor.
No balloons. No hokey-fucking-pokey, and if I hear another damn word about baby goddamn pink or blue, you will quickly learn just what us fat, ugly women are capable of when we’re pissed off. ”
I get a sassy grin that makes her look more constipated than smug. “Is that your way of saying you’re going to sit on me with your fat ass?”
Oh no, she motherfucking didn’t. My patience at the end—have you seen the month I’ve been living?
—I get ready to go all crazy on her when an arm swoops around my waist, lifts me in the air, and suddenly I’m facing the complete opposite direction.
A direction that gives me a lovely view of the audience I’ve accrued.
Fabulous.
“Things. Out. Now.”
Three sharp words, but wow, they cut through the air like a scalpel.
I can’t even turn around, the arm on my waist practically crushing the life from me.
Turning my head to the left, I catch both Greta and Charlie with matching wide eyes and hands over their mouths.
Roberta actually jumps in the air, her hands silently clapping with her obvious joy.
“Kaplan—”
“It’s Dr. Fritz to you,” he seethes at Jenny. “No one, I repeat, no one speaks to anyone like that. Not in my building. Not in my presence. Not in my foundation or hospital. It’s disgraceful. It’s repulsive. It’s just plain old wrong . Grow up. The high school mean-girl bullshit was old even then.”
I try to slip out of his hold, but his grip tightens, and I quit struggling, knowing I’m not going anywhere until he lets me.
“I’m done with this. I’m done. You’ve been doing a shitty job since Bianca showed up and if I have to tell you in live action, then here it is.
You and I will never happen. I am not attracted to you.
I do not want to date you or sleep with you and I will never ever make you my wife.
Whether Bianca was here or not, that was always how it was going to be.
So get your shit and get the fuck out of my building before I have security come up and do it for you, Kelly. ”
And that’s it. Him calling her Kelly when her name is Jenny. I die. So does everyone else in here. And I fall. In love just a teeny, tiny bit. And I swoon. Because no one has ever come to my rescue or stood up for me like that.
Jenny hisses something I can’t even make out over the thundering of blood through my ears, but then she stomps off, making a grand show of it and somehow I’m no longer pinned to Kaplan’s back. No, his green eyes that look like the coming of a tornado fill every inch of my vision.
“Get your stuff. We’re leaving. Now.”
“Um. But. I still have more work to do.”
“Charlie,” he calls out into the wide-open room of gawkers. “Bianca will not be here tomorrow. Do everything she just said to Kelly about aesthetics for the gala.”
Charlie waves her hand in the air, giving us a thumbs-up. “On it. I’ll make it fashion fabulous, only better.”
“Greta, you’re on point for all of Kelly’s other work.”
Greta looks like she’s about to pass out when Kaplan turns his blazingly gorgeous face to her, but she manages a nod and sputters out a, “Sure.”