Wednesday, September 4, 2019

Meet Audrey from MATTERS OF CONVENIENCE - an excerpt














                                        Matters of Convenience


Audrey headed down West Broadway towards her favorite shoe store.  Words of praise showered upon her at that afternoon’s meeting were echoing in her head.  The last author she had signed, a self-help guru who provided spiritual enlightenment to the masses in a non-intimidating page count, marketed in-house as philosophy for dummies, was the current darling of non-fiction Best Seller lists.  Audrey was the golden child of the moment at her publishing house.
Wonderful as the meeting had gone, afterwards went even better.  That’s when she was all but assured that upon the pending retirement of Brandon Murray, who had hired her and served admirably as mentor, the open position of publisher and vice president would go to her.  She had two main competitors.  The first was Sinclair Hopkins, a windbag who dyed his hair a ridiculous tar black shade and was one of the last remaining practitioners in their industry of the three martini lunch.  The second was Patricia McIntrye, Pat to those who knew her reasonably well.  Like Sinclair she was white, but that was the first and last of their similarities.  He was short, stout, often under the influence, and known to make inappropriate comments to and about female coworkers when alcohol rather than discretion got the best of his tongue.  Pat was tall and lean, a teetotaler with a penchant for signing authors with a feminist bent.  She had recently become pregnant, taking everybody at work by surprise because she was a lesbian who had surpassed her fortieth birthday by four years.  Her thirty year old lover Adrian was unable to carry a pregnancy to term, so Pat was artificially inseminated to bring about the family they desired. 
In selecting a successor to Brandon Murray, math declared that Audrey should be the winner.  The money her authors earned surpassed Pat’s and Sinclair’s by a healthy margin.  However the world was not propelled by mathematics or fairness.  She did not want to believe that race would work to her disadvantage but acknowledged the likelihood that it would play a hindering role.  Sinclair had the most seniority and was a white heterosexual male in a power structure that could still be described as an old boy’s network.  Even though his drinking and sexism had become offensive in an increasingly politically correct climate, plus the fact that he was on an extended losing streak at discovering successful authors, Audrey still figured the contest was his to lose.  So she was surprised and delighted to learn that he along with Pat was choking on her dust.
The purchase of a new pair of boots would elevate her spirits even higher.  She was meeting with friends later that night at the opening a posh new restaurant, providing an excellent venue to show off her latest pair of designer footwear.  This was working out to be a great day.
She strode through the doorway of Otto Tootsi Plohound and took a moment to scan the various sizes, shapes, materials, and colors posed prettily about.  Midway through the process she spied a familiar face.
  “Nadia.”
“Audrey. My God, it’s been ages.”
“Yes it has.  How are things with you?”
“Absolutely wonderful.”  Before Nadia reached the seventh syllable of her reply she had pulled out a series of photographs from her purse.  They featured her pride and joy.
“He’s adorable,” Audrey stated automatically before even taking a good look at the top picture.  “He’s gotten so big since I saw him last,” she said as she flipped through the stack, aware that her comments were a carbon copy of every conversation she’d ever had with the mother of a toddler.
“Thanks.  Clay somehow manages to grow more precious every day.  I hear things are really looking up for you at Piermont.”
Audrey was not surprised to learn that Nadia continued to monitor events at work more than a year after her departure.  She had been a workaholic up until her final day, resulting in her being one of the most respected executives in the company.  What continued to astound Audrey was the fact that Nadia left to begin with.  She had brought about much positive change during her career while managing to avoid bruising too many egos.  It had seemed there was no limit to her prospects.
Yet she walked away from it.  Nadia abandoned the income, the respect, the power and influence she wielded.  She left all of these things behind her for the trials, tribulations and triumphs of motherhood.  The paychecks could be forfeited thanks to substantial income earned by her husband Carlos.  As for other benefits, apparently they did not matter much when compared to the look of unconditional love found in her son’s eyes.  Nadia insisted that her first and probably only child not be raised by nannies.  She chose to follow the same “if you want it done right, do it yourself” philosophy in her personal life that had been advantageous to her career.
“Keep your fingers crossed for me,” Audrey said.
“You know I will.  There is no one more deserving of that position than you.”  She was looking in the purse being rummaged through rather than at Audrey as she spoke.  After pulling out a compact, lipstick, crumbled tissues and a tampon, she found the cell phone she was looking for.  “Oh, look at the time.  I always lose track of it in here.  I have to run.  Let’s do a better job of keeping in touch.”
“Yes, definitely.”
A kiss on the cheek later, Nadia was off and running.  Audrey took a moment to compare the version that she recalled from their time working together to the current somewhat harried, but still flawlessly put together incarnation.  Was Nadia happier now?  Probably.  Hopefully.  Done reflecting on the state of affairs of Nadia Schwartz-Fernandez, she turned her attention back to the array of podiatric accoutrements.  She knew that deciding on a purchase for tonight would be a torturous ordeal, and she was looking forward to every second of it.
“A lovely day for shoe shopping, is it not?”
Audrey turned towards the man who approached her.  He was expensively dressed in a sharp as a blade Armani suit, clearly not an employee of the store, but someone who intended to spend plenty of money in it.
“Every day is a lovely one for shoe shopping.”
The man smiled, bringing about deeply etched dimples.  He was handsome in a maintained sort of way.  He had a Bill Dee Williams circa “Lady Sings the Blues” vibe going for him, complete with requisite well-groomed mustache.  She got the feeling that nobody was more aware of his good looks than him, and also suspected that his confidence would be matched by persistence. 
“I’m Mitchell.”
“I’m sure you are.”
“I was standing over there and couldn’t help noticing you.  I said to myself ‘Mitchell, you absolutely must go over and introduce yourself to that splendid looking creature’.  I guess you could say I was helplessly drawn to your radiance.  I’m sure this sort of thing happens to you all the time but I’m pretty new at being in the presence of a goddess, so you’ll have to forgive me for being a bit tongue tied.”
“To the contrary.  You’re quite the smooth talker.”  Audrey wished she could grab a shovel to dig herself out from the mound of drivel Mitchell had dumped on her.  She had heard plenty of scripted dialogue before from guys who lacked spur of the moment eloquence, but nothing quite as self-indulgent as his little seduction speech.
“Only when properly inspired.  Now are you going to be kind enough to grace me with your name?  Or better yet, with that plus your company.  There’s a quaint little cafĂ© around the corner from here.  Perhaps you’d care to join me for cappuccino and biscotti so we can get to know one another better.”
She took hold of his manicured hands, bringing about another of his dimpled smiles, this one even more lascivious than its predecessor. 
“I think I already know you well enough.  But I’ll make you a deal.  I’ll tell you my name if you tell me the name of your wife.”  She pointed out the ring finger tan line he sported, wedding band no doubt stuffed into his pocket a minute earlier.
“Okay,” he said.  “I’m not perfect.  But I have been told that I’m pretty damn close.  And I’d be happy to keep a woman as fine as yourself stocked in as many pairs of these shoes as your heart desires.  I’d love to tend to every single one of your desires, if you know what I mean.”
Audrey let go of his hands as if realizing he was contaminated by something deadly contagious.  “I can buy my own shoes, thank you.  And if I wanted to run around with another woman’s husband, I’d pick any woman other than your wife.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, licking his lips to unintentionally provide another turn-off.  “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.  I think we’d be incredible together.” 
When her icy glare did not melt by so much as one cube he got the hint, straightened his Nicole Miller tie for effect, and exited the store with his shopping bag.  It likely contained either a purchase for his unfortunate wife, for some woman on the side who had fallen for his sorry rap, or perhaps one for each of them.
     He was gone from her mind before he even reached the door.  Wall to wall shoes made forgetting about fools and their lame come-ons pretty easy to do.

                                                    
                                                         MEET JAMES                                                      

                                                      MEET MARSHALL