Great, Charity wanted other readers. Now she was going to have to go door to door to find somebody for a second opinion. Nina started to shove her own door open and then stopped, remembering a door worth knocking on. “Wait a minute. How about if I get you several other readers?”
Charity looked cautious. “Who?”
Nina pulled her door closed. “Come on. You have to meet Norma.” She started for the stairs, and Fred and Charity followed her up to the fourth-floor apartment.
“Norma, this is Charity,” Nina said when Norma opened the door, and then she stopped while elegant Norma—dressed in olive cashmere and khaki linen—and over-the-top Charity—dressed in electric blue vinyl and silver lycra—sized each other up, came to their separate conclusions and smiled at each other. “Charity’s written a book,” Nina went on when it seemed safe. “Does your readers’ group ever read unpublished manuscripts?”
“Well, we haven’t before,” Norma said. “That doesn’t mean we can’t start.” She opened her door wider. “Come on in and tell me about it,” she said, and Fred trotted in.
Fifteen minutes later, they were down the stairs again, and Charity had a new deadline.
“I can finish the last chapter by Thursday,” she told Nina. “This is so great of Norma to do this. Can you get the copies run off if I get it to you by Thursday night?”
“Sure.” Nina put her key in the door. “Norma can give them out on Friday and then the next Friday—” Her voice broke off as she opened the door and heard her television.
“We’re out of Oreos,” Alex called from the floor in front of the TV, and Fred went to join him.
Charity raised an eyebrow at Nina.
Nina lifted her chin. “I must have left the window open.” She led Charity over to the couch. “This is Alex. Alex, this is Charity.”
Alex turned from the TV. “Ah, the great author—” he began, only to stop as his eyes traveled up Charity’s endless black-stockinged legs to her vinyl miniskirt and lycra tank top.
Seeing Charity for the first time was always an experience, Nina reminded herself. But seeing Charity from floor level would be mind-boggling. It wasn’t Alex’s fault that his chin was on his knees.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Charity said, and Alex climbed to his feet.
“I haven’t heard nearly enough about you,” he said, and Nina wanted to kill them both.
“I’ll go get the Oreos,” she said to get away from them, and Alex turned back to her and said, “I told you, we’re out.”
“I moved them,” Nina told him. “I was trying to make a space for the Crock-Pot because you keep bitching at me about it, and I moved them. And then there still wasn’t enough space for the pot, anyway, but I forgot to move them back.”
Alex shook his head at her. “Don’t move things around on me. Stability is the foundation of any good relationship. One day it’s moving the Oreos, and the next day it’ll be the couch, and then where will we be?” He leaned closer to smile into her eyes. “We’ve got a good thing going here, babe. Don’t screw up.”
Nina’s heart lurched sideways, but she did her best not to smile back. “I’ll get the Oreos. You amuse Charity.”
She headed for the kitchen, trying not to stomp, and then jumped when Charity spoke from behind her as she reached for the cupboard door.
“That man was flirting with you,” Charity said, absolutely delighted.
“That man flirts with tree stumps,” Nina said, absolutely disgusted. “You’ll see. Go on back in there and sit down next to him.”
“I don’t want to see.” Charity plopped herself down into a chair. “I’m through with men forever. Every time I see one, I want to spit.” She grew thoughtful. “Except for Alex. He seems like a good one.”
Nina dropped the Oreos on the table. “Then go for it.”
Charity scowled at her. “You’re not listening. I’m through with men. You’re not. I think you should go after Alex.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nina said, feeling immensely relieved and immensely annoyed that she was feeling relieved. It didn’t mean anything that Charity wasn’t interested in Alex.
“I’m not being ridiculous.” Charity picked up an Oreo. “I think you should seduce him.”
“Seduce who?” Alex said behind her.
Charity dropped her cookie. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“Sorry.” Alex crossed to the fridge, shoved the Crock-Pot back, opened the door and took out the milk. “Who is Nina seducing? I may be against this.”
“I have a new date,” Nina said, mentally kicking herself because now she’d have to dig up somebody to date. Digging up made her think of Charity’s idea about digging up James Dean, and she grinned in spite of herself.
Alex leaned on the counter next to her and scowled at her. “Stop smiling. You do not have my permission to seduce this guy.”
Nina raised her eyebrows at him. “I don’t need your permission.”
“Yeah, you do.” Alex reached behind her and got a mug out of the cupboard. “You’re a mother. You have standards to uphold.”
Charity frowned at him. “She’s not a mother.”
“Yes, she is.” Alex nodded at Fred, who was sitting at their feet, giving them his best I-Need-An-Oreo-Desperately look. “Fred’s at that difficult age.”
Charity looked down at him. “Would that be the Age of Snot?”
Alex snorted. “Come on, Fred. They’re being irrational, and Frasier reruns are on. Let’s go watch Eddie.” He picked up the Oreos, and Fred surged to his feet and trotted after him into the living room.
Charity looked at Nina. “That man is nuts about you.”
Nina sagged against the counter. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t be ridiculous because I’m being ridiculous enough for both of us. I’m the one who made up a phantom date.”
“Why don’t you go out with him?” Charity said, jerking her head toward the living room, exasperated.
Nina folded her arms. “Well, for one thing he hasn’t asked me.”
Charity rolled her eyes. “It’s the twenty-first century. You’re allowed to do the asking now.”
Nina snorted. “Ask out a guy who’s ten years younger than I am? Right. No.”
Charity looked back over her shoulder toward the living room. “You’re nuts. He’s perfect for you, and you’re going to let ten years—”
“That’s a lot of years, Char,” Nina said. “And Alex isn’t perfect for me. You know, he’s not exactly mature for his age. His idea of intellectual entertainment is ‘Mystery Science Theater.’ He has no serious thoughts.”
Charity bit into an Oreo. “Sounds wonderful to me.”
Nina sighed. “Well, actually, it’s wonderful for me, too, for right now, but what happens if we do end up together and the lust part wears off and I’m stuck with an infant significant other?” Nina bit her lip. “Not that we’d ever end up together. We’re too mismatched. I’m visibly older than he is, and it’s only going to get worse. And there’s my body.” She stopped and swallowed. “Everything’s lower and chunkier than it used to be. You should see the women he dates. They’re young and beautiful and—” she made a face “—taut and perky, the whole Playboy bit. And you want me to flash him a body that has twenty more years on it than the ones he’s used to? There’s a limit to how long I can hold in my stomach.”
Charity opened her mouth, but Nina overrode her. “And he’s at the age where he’s probably thinking about settling down. I’m at the age where I’m tired of settling down. I don’t want to do the big house bit again. I love this apartment. I love my life.” She thought for a moment of her life, which included her big empty bed, a bed that grew bigger and emptier with every moment she spent with Alex. No. “We’re fine as friends,” she told Charity. “In fact, we’re phenomenal as friends. But for the rest of our lives? When he’s my age, I’ll be fifty. Men still look great at forty, but I’ll be fifty. I’ll look old.”
Charity frowned at her in disgust. “
No, you won’t. You’re making assumptions based on the way things used to be. Things have changed. People don’t get old at fifty anymore. Hell, the best-looking woman I’ve seen lately is Norma, and she has to be in her sixties.”
“Seventy-five,” Nina corrected her.
Charity spread her hands out. “Well, see. It’s attitude that counts, not age. And I have to tell you, your attitude sucks. You might as well be eighty now, the way you’re giving up on life.”
“I’m not giving up on life,” Nina said, stung. “I’m just not going to make a fool of myself over a younger man.”
Charity pushed herself away from the table and stood up. “Nina, take it from me because I know this from experience. No matter what guy you end up with, you’re going to make a fool of yourself. You might as well make a fool of yourself over somebody who’s worth it. And Alex is worth it.”
Nina closed her eyes and thought of Alex out there in her living room, his T-shirt torn and probably on backward, feeding illegal Oreos to her dog, definitely the most desirable man she’d ever known in her life.
“Get me a date fast,” she told Charity. “Fix me up with somebody my own age before I do something stupid.”
“Doing something stupid would be the smartest thing you could do,” Charity said. “But I’ll get you somebody. You dummy.”
A WEEK LATER, a little past eleven, Nina sat in her window and waited for Fred to return from watering the Dumpster. Fifteen minutes before, she’d given a good-night kiss to Charity’s fix-up date, a terrific man named Phillip, and now she sat kicking herself for being so unenthusiastic about Phillip’s kiss, when he was so nice and so right for her. If she was going to trash perfectly nice men simply because they weren’t Alex, she was never going to find anybody to date. She pondered her dilemma until it dawned on her that Fred hadn’t come back in his usual ten minutes.
Before she could go out the window after him, the phone rang.
“Your dog’s down here,” Alex said when she answered. “Come on down and get him.”
“Just put him out on the fire escape,” Nina said, confused. “He’ll come up on his own. You know—”
“What’s wrong?” Alex said, his voice tense with concern. “Stop crying, Nina.”
“I’m not crying—”
“I’ll be right up,” Alex said. “Don’t do anything foolish. I’ll be right there.”
Then all she heard was the dial tone.
Alex wanted out of his apartment for some reason. It could only mean one thing: another date from hell. Nina tried hard not to be glad Alex was crashing and burning again. Where did he find these women? Suppressing a smile, she went to splash water in her eyes just in case tonight’s Antichrist came with him.
She did.
“Poor baby.” Alex came through the door, looking overdressed and adult in his navy suit, followed by Fred, looking bored and morose, as usual, and Alex’s date.
Nina held a tissue to her eyes and checked out the date.
She was a tall brunette, dressed in formfitting black, absolutely lovely and absolutely furious.
“Oh, Alex,” Nina said, and then he put his arms around her and pressed her head to his chest. There she was, too close to that chest again, and now that her cheek was pressed against it, she knew it was as warm and solid as it looked. She lost her place in the program for a moment until Alex said pointedly, “Stop crying, honey.” Then she tried a sob, and he held her tighter.
“You’re terrible at this,” he whispered in her ear.
“It wasn’t my idea to cry, you big ingrate,” she hissed back at him, not really angry as long as his arms were around her.
“Is this going to take long?” his date asked from the doorway. Fred’s nose was dangerously close to her leg, and she was glaring at him and Alex with equal disgust.
“Deirdre, I can’t leave her,” Alex said. Nina sobbed again and Alex patted her. “Let me get you a cab,” he said to Deirdre.
“I’ll get my own,” Deirdre said and shot Nina a look of pure venom before she disappeared down the stairs.
Alex let go of Nina to close the door after Deirdre. “Good,” he said to the door. “You have more money than I do, anyway.”
“What did she do?” Nina said, tossing the Kleenex away. “Offer to have your baby on the first date?”
Alex wandered into the kitchen. “You got any beer?”
“No.” Nina followed him. “She was very lovely.”
“Yeah, she’s pretty.”
Nina felt depressed.
Alex got two glasses from the cupboard. “She’s sharp, too. It was hell trying to coax Fred in through the window so I could call you without tipping her off. I thought I was never going to get rid of her.”
So he’d used Fred to get rid of his date. Nina cheered up.
Alex shoved back the Crock-Pot and opened the refrigerator door to peer into the fridge. “You know, as often as I’m up here, you’d think you’d stock beer for me.” He pulled out a bottle of wine. “Wine?”
Nina sat down at the table. “Yes. Thank you. What did she do?”
Alex took two glasses down from the stemware rack and put them in front of her. “We’re at dinner, right?”
“Right.”
He eased the cork out of the bottle and poured the wine. There was enough for two glasses. “What happened to the rest of this? You hitting the sauce with Fred?”
“No, I hit the sauce with my date,” Nina said. “What happened at dinner?”
Alex handed her a glass. “Michael again? I thought we got rid of him.”
Nina stuck her chin out. “No. Phillip.”
Alex frowned. “Who’s Phillip?”
“He’s a friend of Charity’s. You don’t know him. What happened at dinner?”
He shook his head at her. “I don’t think you should be dating all these strange guys. At least let me check them out first. Who’s Phillip?”
Nina fixed her eyes on him. “What. Happened. At. Dinner.”
Alex sighed and leaned against the counter. “We’re right in the middle of the entrée. Things are going pretty good although there’s something about Deirdre that’s a little…” He sipped his wine as he considered.
“Yes?”
“Intimidating.” Alex took another sip of wine. “I like strong women, but Deirdre…” He shook his head.
Nina took her wine over to the table and sat down. “What happened in the middle of the entrée?”
Alex left the counter and sat down, too. “She smiled at me across the table, and said, ‘I just want you to know where you stand.’ Then she opened her purse and handed me two condoms.”
“Oh.” Nina blinked. “Well, that’s very up front of her. And the condoms are good. Safe sex.”
“I know about safe sex,” Alex said. “I’m a doctor. And I have my own condoms, thank you, in my wallet and in the drawer by my bed. Any guy who doesn’t these days is either stupid or suicidal.”
Nina tried not to think about his bed. “Well, she was just being prepared.”
“Prepared?” Alex looked at her as if she were demented. “I wasn’t even sure I wanted to yet, and she’s handing me condoms. Don’t you think that’s a little presumptuous?”
Nina frowned at him. “So what are you saying here? You’re mad at her because you’re not That Kind of Guy?” She snorted. “Of course you’re That Kind of Guy.”
“And two,” Alex went on, ignoring her. “Two, for crissakes. Talk about pressure.”
“Oh, right.” Nina nodded wisely over her wine. “You are over thirty. I suppose the equipment is going soft.”
“The equipment is fine, thank you,” Alex said, glaring at her. “But there is such a thing as performance anxiety.”
“You know, I’ve learned more about men in a couple of months with you than I did in fifteen years with Guy,” Nina said. “I thought men just dived in whenever they got the chance. I would have assumed that you’d take that as a compliment.”
“You
would have assumed wrong,” Alex said. “From now on, I’m staying home and watching television.” He perked up. “Which reminds me.” He took his wine and got up to walk into the living room. “It’s time for film school.”
“Too bad I don’t have a date to get rid of,” Nina said, following him again.
“Yeah.” Alex turned on the television and flipped through the channels. “Why didn’t you call me about Phillip?”
“Because Phillip was a gentleman and kissed me at the door.”
Alex froze for a second and then turned to scowl. “You kissed him on the first date?”
Nina looked at him, nonplussed. “Alex, I’m forty. I don’t need your permission to sleep with a guy on the first date, let alone kiss one.”
“The hell you don’t.” Alex pointed his finger at her. “You’re not used to this dating stuff. You let me check these guys out, and then I’ll tell you if you can sleep with them or not.” He turned back to the TV and punched the remote again, and a moan from the television caught his attention. He settled down on the floor, his back against the couch. “Ah, yes. This is a classic.”
Nina looked at the TV. It was full of writhing bodies on sand. “Exactly what classic is this?”
“This would be Beach Bunnies From Hell.”
Nina blinked. “You’re kidding, right?”
Alex remained glued to the screen where a man and a woman were either mud wrestling or having impossible sex. “Nope.”
Nina stared at the woman on the screen with contempt. Her breasts were high, perfect and unmoving no matter what position she twisted herself into, and she twisted herself into a lot of positions, all of which pointed her breasts like bazookas at the camera. Actually, her breasts didn’t look like bazookas; they looked like Jell-O molds, quivering slightly but solid clear through.
“You know, breasts like that make a man believe in God,” Alex said.
Nina flopped down on the couch, disgusted with him and the movie and more convinced than ever that she would never take off her clothes in front of Alex. “God did not make those breasts. Du Pont made those breasts.”
Alex sighed. “I know that. I just want to believe. It’s like Santa Claus.”