Chapter Nineteen
Mallory meets Gavin at a pub on Centre Street, just a few blocks from the courthouse.
When she arrives, Gavin is already in a booth.
He doesn’t see her walk in because he’s staring off toward the bar, his brow furrowed, tie askew.
She knows he’s thinking about whatever happened in court, or whatever he anticipates will happen after lunch.
His mind is always working, and she likes that about him.
Respects it. Certainly more than she respects herself at the moment. And that’s a problem.
The place is busy and loud, with low ceilings stained a permanent amber from decades of cigarette smoke back when that was still legal.
The floors are scuffed wood, sticky in spots, and the smell is a mix of beer, fried food, and something faintly musty.
Behind the long mahogany bar, shelves are crammed with bottles, but the real draw seems to be the tap row: Guinness, Harp, Smithwick’s, and a rotating IPA.
It reminds her of the places where she drank during law school: faded rugby jerseys, yellowed photographs of Dublin streets, tin signs advertising Jameson and Murphy’s, and the music of Van Morrison.
When she reaches the table Gavin stands up, waiting for her to sit. It’s so old-school and charming it makes her smile.
“How did it go in court?” she asks, hoping maybe an instant dive into the work at hand will make him forget the real reason they’re meeting for lunch.
Gavin nods, passing her a menu.
“I think we have the momentum,” he says. “But we’re not here to talk about the Klein case, are we?”
She stares down at the menu. “About that photo …”
“Are you really a burlesque dancer?”
“Yes,” she says, looking him in the eye.
“What is that, exactly?” He seems genuinely curious.
“Well … it’s a performance art, like any other kind of dancing. Costumes play a big role and it’s really very feminist when you think about it …”
“But there’s an element of, I mean—this is awkward but the point is, you take off your clothes, right?”
“Yes. But not fully. I mean, I take my costume off but I’m wearing … look, I feel really uncomfortable talking to you about this.”
He holds up his hands. “Mallory, I feel bad ever having this conversation. I know it’s not my business what you do in your spare time.
But my company is so small that, whether it’s fair or not, you’re extremely visible to my clients.
When I’m running around at court or I’m in a deposition room with you, I can’t worry that the opposing counsel or our clients might be taking you—and, by extension, me—less seriously because of your, um, other job. ”
“I understand,” she says, her stomach sinking. A server comes to take their order, and she feels like her ears are buzzing. She barely hears a thing, and when she orders a burger, it sounds like her voice is coming from underwater. Is this what true anxiety feels like?
They sit in silence, until Gavin finally says, “So, how important is it to you? The burlesque thing?”
“I’m not sure how to answer that,” she says.
“Well, is this a passing hobby or something you plan on doing for a while?”
She shakes her head slowly, thinking. “I’ve been asking myself the very same question.”
“I need you to decide,” he says.
“You mean, choose.”
“Mallory, apologies if I’m overstepping here, but I think you’re very smart and you should consider retaking the bar exam.”
She looks at him, surprised. This was not what she expected to hear.
“Reed Warner is a tough gig,” he says of her previous law firm. “They burn out more lawyers than not. That culture isn’t for everyone. But the fact that they hired you in the first place tells me you must be pretty damn good.”
“Thanks,” she says. She doesn’t know if he means it, but at the very least, he’s throwing her a conversational lifeline to restore her dignity.
They look at each other, a shared glance. It feels accidentally intense.
Her phone vibrates in her bag. She wonders if it’s yet another person texting or calling about the Page Six photo. Hopefully, word had not yet spread to her mother, who’s mercifully clueless about Mallory’s alter ego.
The text: Just spoke with Alec and he said the three of us should get together again soon—VIOLET.
The flash of an image: Jocelyn on top of Alec.
She looks up at Gavin. “Thank you. For the lunch, for being so cool about this whole thing. I’m sorry if it caused you any embarrassment. But it makes me realize this burlesque thing has run its course and that it’s time for me to make some changes.”
When Mallory gets home from work she finds Alec in the kitchen opening cartons of freshly delivered Chinese food. He always says that it’s the best cure for jet lag, and she usually finds that charming. But since the message from Violet, she can barely look at him.
“Hey,” he says, greeting her with a kiss. “Wait—did you make your hair darker?”
“Yes,” she says. She notices a flicker of concern. He remembers that the last time she dyed her hair, they weren’t exactly in a good space.
“It looks great,” he says.
“Thanks.” She checks inside the refrigerator and reopens a half-empty bottle of red wine.
“I called you a few times,” he says. “That Page Six item is crazy, right?”
She searches the cabinet for a clean glass and settles on a coffee mug. “I was too busy to think about it.” She slugs the cold wine, not having the patience to wait for it to warm to room temperature. She never drinks red wine cold.
“Mal,” he says. “What’s wrong? Why did you give me the silent treatment all day?”
She leans against one of the counters, facing him. “This isn’t about you, Alec,” she says. “You’re such an egomaniac.”
He looks hurt, and she feels a little bad. But deep down she’s really hurt, too. She can’t forget the night at the Plaza, but it turns out she can’t live with the memory. Every time Violet says something the least bit provocative, she’s going to experience the wound fresh.
“So what’s it about?” he says.
“For one thing, I’ve busy trying to salvage my job after Page Six outed me.”
“Is that what you’re upset about?”
“No. What I meant to say is: While I was busy trying to salvage my job you were busy talking to Violet about a redo at the Plaza!”
He seems surprised and says, “Mallory, she called me.”
“Why would she do that?”
He gives an exaggerated shrug, throwing up his hands. “I don’t even know how she got my number. But she’s bad news.”
She really doesn’t want to hear his excuses, so she brushes past him toward the bedroom.
It just confirms what she’s been thinking: Things will never change.
If she accepts what happened at the Plaza, if she accepts getting messages like the one from Violet today, then she only has herself to blame.
“Even when things are good between us, I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop.
And as far as burlesque goes? I can’t help but worry about the future.
Where is this really going? Okay, I proved that I could do it.
I have fun. But I’m never going to be able to support myself doing this, and I don’t want to live the crazy life that Bette is living on her way to fame.
I’m just doubting everything. I feel like I’ve backed myself into a corner and I don’t know how to get out of it. ” She starts crying.
“Mallory, where’s all this coming from?”
She looks at him. “I love you, but I’m not happy. And I don’t believe I can be in this life we’re living.”
Now that she’s said it, the simple truth is undeniable. And there’s a certain relief in the clarity.
“Come on. Whatever’s not working, we’ll fix it.”
She shakes her head. “I mean, we’ve tried in the past. But we keep ending up back in the same place.”
“And what place is that?”
“Distrust.”
He stands in the doorway of the bedroom, a crushed expression on his face. “Mallory, it was one night that meant nothing and you know that because you were there.”
Yes, she was there. And arguably, she started whatever he’d finished. She’s to blame, too. And she’s going to work on herself. But she can’t change him.
“Mallory, we met young. We’re both changing and growing, but that’s just normal. And we’re doing it together.”
“I’m sorry. It doesn’t feel right anymore.”
Alec doesn’t move toward her, but his eyes shine with tears. She wants to comfort him, and she wants him to comfort her. Instead, she walks past him again and retrieves her coat and her handbag.
There’s one more person she needs to end things with tonight.