Knitting Under the Influence

“Very funny,” he said, snatching the bottle away. He plucked another container off the shelves and thrust it at her. “Take this and get the hell out of here. You're infecting the whole place.”

“It's a cold, Sam-not the Avian flu.” She shook a couple of pills into her hand, tossed them into her mouth, then bent down and drank some water straight out of the faucet, shoving her head sideways into the sink. She stood up again, and swiped at the drops around her mouth with the back of her hand. “How long do these take to work?”

“Didn't anyone teach you any manners at all?” He threw her a towel.

“They tried,” Kathleen said. “But it was no use.” She dropped the towel and suddenly grabbed on to the sink. “Yikes. Dizzy.”

“You don't have to go to this thing,” he said and sat down on the edge of the bathtub. “You want to.”

“Yeah, I want to. Man, my head's spinning. I want to see everyone from work get drunk and act silly. And I want to see if Kevin Porter has a girlfriend.”

“Why do you care?”

“I’m curious is all. Oh, and the food should be good. If I don't throw up, which right now I think I might.”

“Not here,” Sam said. “I am not cleaning up after you, Kathleen, so if you re feeling sick, get out now or be prepared to mop it up yourself.”

“Boy, and I thought my father was a jerk-”

“Get out,” Sam snarled, and she fled.

The cold medicine kicked in, and by the time Kathleen got to the party an hour and a half later, her head wasn't throbbing so much, although she still felt kind of shaky and strange- which could have been the virus or the drugs or a combination of the two.

She looked a lot better, too. She had washed her hair and blown it dry, so it was straight and glossy, and had covered up the shadows under her eyes with concealer, then applied her evening makeup with a skilled, if slightly heavy, hand. She chose a black dress tight enough to flaunt the strong V-shape from her shoulders to her waist and short enough to make her long legs look about a mile long, especially once she had also strapped on a pair of spike-heeled sandals.

As soon as she entered the banquet hall, a waiter was at her elbow with a choice of white or red wine. She chose red and strolled through the room while she sipped it slowly. There was a string quartet quietly playing lively music in one far corner and lots of waiters wandering around with trays, passing out drinks and offering hors d'oeuvres. The general atmosphere was fairly subdued and genteel, but, given the ubiquity of the alcohol, Kathleen suspected-and hoped-that things would get a lot more interesting before the end of the evening.

There were open French doors at the far end of the room, and through them you could see a balcony and, beyond that, the ocean. The hotel was right on the beach in Santa Monica. Kathleen didn't feel like making small talk with anyone yet, so she walked through the room-smiling and waving at a couple of semi-familiar faces-and out onto the balcony. There were a few other guests out there-mostly couples who were holding hands and watching the sunset.

There was one guy standing alone by the railing, apparently captivated by the play of light on the waves. Kathleen stepped forward so she could see his face. She smiled.

She came and stood next to him and joined him in looking at the water.

“It's pretty amazing,” she said after they had stood side by side in companionable silence for a moment or two. “Too bad you can't bottle and sell it.”

He shook his head. “That's what makes it so great. It only lasts for as long as you're there to look at it. And it belongs to everyone.”

“No admission charge.”

“The best things in life are free.”

“So are the worst, but no one goes around pointing that out.

He laughed and turned to look at her. She smiled back at him, assessing him in this light as she had back in the office. Not gorgeous, Kevin Porter, but attractive, helped by the glow of good health and comfortable living, though he was starting to swell a little at the waist and chin. Slightly better than average looks, but when you added in the bank account, he became gorgeous, because how many men in that price range could even come close?

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you're Luisa's new assistant, but I’ve forgotten your name.”

“Kathleen.” He wouldn't ever forget it again, she'd make sure of that.

He leaned back against the railing, the ocean view put aside for the moment in favor of the closer eye candy. “So, Kathleen… How's it going? Are you enjoying working with us?”

“Sure. Everyone's been very nice to me.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Kevin Porter said. “How'd you happen to come interview in the first place?”

“A friend referred me. Sam Kaplan.”

Kevin looked surprised. “Sam's a friend of yours?”

“Sort of. I only met him a few weeks ago. But he got me this job and a free apartment, so he's definitely on my good guy list.”

Kevin Porter smiled. “Biggest shark in L.A.”

“You're kidding.”

“My father adores him. The only guy in town who's tougher than he is.”

“Really?” She filed that piece of information away. Interesting.

There was a pause, then Kevin said, “Are you a runner, by any chance?”

“I am,” Kathleen said. “How did you know?”

“You just looked like you might be.” They both knew it meant he had been looking at her legs. And they were both okay with that.

“How about you?” she said. “Do you run?”

“I like to. But only if I have company. I get bored running alone.”

“Ah,” she said. “That's where the iPod comes in.”

“Music?” he said. “Not enough of a distraction-I still know I’m running.”

“Well,” she said. “If you ever need a partner-”

“Let me buy you a drink,” he said immediately.

“I think you already did,” she said, putting her empty wineglass down on the edge of the railing. But she let him walk her back into the party.

That night in bed, after spending the whole evening talking and dancing with Kevin, she pictured a future in which she would be the one buying the cars for her mother and sisters.

Maybe she'd even get them all a beach house. She had liked looking at the ocean that evening, and the twins didn't own a beach house yet. She could lead the way.

One day, Christa and Kelly wouldn't be cute anymore, and their earning potential would just shut down, but if she married Kevin Porter, Kathleen would always be rich. And then they would come to her, begging her for money. And she'd give it to them. She would be very generous when she was rich.

When Kathleen got bored with picturing herself as the bulwark of her family, she wrote herself an even better scenario. One day, she decided, she would stroll into Sam Kaplan's place and let him know that the moment her apartment was cleared of all legal hurdles, she was prepared to buy it. With cash. “You see?” she would say to him, “I did figure out my future after all.” He would, for once, be speechless.

And that thought was so delicious, she kept running the scene through her head until she fell asleep, a smile on her face.

VI

You've got to wake up,” Lucy said.

James just burrowed more deeply into the pillows. Lucy pounded on his back. “I mean it,” she said.“Why?” he said, half opening one eye to squint up at her. “It's Sunday morning, isn't it? I get to sleep late.”