Scot on the Rocks

“That would be so embarrassing to be fired,” another girl said.

“No one’s getting fired,” Vanessa said.

“Or, worse yet, you could end up like Cheryl in tax,” Sandy said. I looked up and she was smiling slyly, like an arsonist about to light a match. Someone has got to get that girl some billable work. “When she broke up with Henry Kaplan in litigation, she had to see him every day. And now he’s married with two kids and she’s still single. And she still has to see him every day.”

“She’s not going to end up like Cheryl in tax!” Vanessa said. “Honey,” she said, turning to me, “you’re not going to end up like Cheryl in tax.”

“Well, I, for one, think it’s a bad idea,” Lori said. “Remember when we went to that women’s luncheon? All of the female partners said that you have to work very hard to be taken seriously when you’re a woman.”

“Only two people said that,” a voice from the other side of the table said.

“That’s because there are only four female partners at the firm,” another voice replied. Everyone was speaking so quickly, I could barely tell who was saying what.

“You really should try to keep things secret with him for a while, though,” another voice offered.

“But you can tell us, of course,” another voice said. “We won’t tell anyone.”

The whole table kept talking, giving their opinions, until they all turned into a blur. “I think you should.” “I think you shouldn’t.” “Who cares what you think!” They all spoke over each other, louder and louder, all the voices melting into one. The room began to spin.

“Everyone, stop it!” I said. The table became silent. It was just like in a movie. I spoke and everyone listened. It felt good to take charge of the situation. I would just tell everyone to calm down and to keep things quiet, and no one else would know a thing as I figured it all out for myself. I could make a clear, well thought out decision without the interference of any outside opinions.

As a smile crept onto my lips, I felt a presence behind me. Everyone at the table was staring, fake smiles frozen on their faces. I turned around to find Danielle Lewis, the head of the corporate department, standing behind my chair.

“Brooke,” she asked, “are you free for lunch tomorrow? We should go for lunch.”

And just as easily as it had begun, it was over. Five months later, Jack was engaged to a girl he met at a Knicks game the week after our trip to South Carolina.

Jack and Mr. Mohawk were still quietly whispering. Mr. Mohawk winked at Jack as he walked away from us.

“How come no one ever mistook Douglas and I for married when we were together?” I asked Jack. “We were together for two years.”

“Maybe that’s because you two never really made a very good couple.”

“But tell me, Jack, how do you really feel?”

“They’re all crap. I’m taking this one off,” Jack said, turning on his heel.

“No!” I protested.

“Yes!” he said. “None of these are any good. Why are we shopping for this at a costume shop?” he asked.

“You know why,” I said, making sure I was speaking softly enough that I would not offend Mr. Mohawk. “The kilts in the tuxedo rental place cost a fortune. This way is so much cheaper.”

“Well, it certainly feels cheaper,” he said, pulling the kilt off, revealing his boxers. They were faded blue chambray and they reminded me of a guy that I’d had a crush on in college. I felt as if I were staring, so I fixed my eyes on the various angel costumes hanging on the wall.

“Who cares what it feels like?” I said, pretending to be interested in a marabou halo. “It looks fine, and that’s all that matters. Let’s just pick a color.”

“Maybe you should focus on what things really are and not just what they look like.”

“What did you just say?” I asked, turning around to face him.

“Nothing. I’m putting on the navy one again,” he said, disappearing into the fitting room. I walked past the angel costumes into the “Corner of Terror” and looked at the various instruments of torture.

“How’s this one?” Jack asked. As I turned around, he struck his best Marilyn Monroe Seven Year Itch pose. A fan that had been put on the floor to blow air into a ghost’s sails provided the gust of air he needed to make the kilt pop up as he held it down with his hands. I laughed.

“I think I like the red. Would you mind throwing that one on again?”

“Your wish is my command,” Jack said. Hmmm. Maybe that’s why he always has so many girlfriends. I mean, Jack isn’t exactly the best-looking man in Manhattan, yet women always flock to him. He does have a good job, though, and anyone who can read can find out how much he makes since they print the salaries big firms pay every year in the Law Journal. Okay, I mean, he’s not bad looking. I’m not saying he’s bad looking. He has the kind of looks that grow on you. He’s tall, so that’s good, but it’s not like he’s movie star handsome or anything.

Douglas was movie star handsome. Not was, is. I mean, it’s not as if he’s dead or something. I only wished he were dead. When I wasn’t wishing he’d get back together with me, that is.

I walked over to a lightsaber from the Star Wars display and picked it up.

“That’s a Jedi lightsaber,” a woman with a shaved head and a massive tattoo creeping up her neck said to me. “Leia never carried a Jedi lightsaber.” She was wearing combat boots, a black wife beater and a camouflage skirt. The fishnet stockings and bloodred lipstick completed the look. Her name tag said Jennie.

As I turned to her, ready to give her my best “Luke, I am your father,” Jack walked out of the dressing room with the red kilt on. And a gorilla mask on his head — one of those big ones that cover your head and neck completely. I practically fell over I was laughing so hard. Jack grabbed me and threw me over his left shoulder, making gorilla noises all the while. Jennie laughed like a schoolgirl. She must’ve heard the whole “your wish is my command” thing.

Jack’s cell phone began to ring, and he rushed to pick it up with me still over his shoulder. Putting me and the gorilla head down, he answered the phone while I began to talk to Mr. Mohawk about price.

“Healthy Foods,” Jack said, coming out of the dressing room fully dressed and throwing the navy kilt onto the counter with a half smile. “I’ve gotta get back to the office.”

“Do I have to get back to the office, too?” I asked, praying that he would say no.

He hesitated. Never a good sign.

“But it’s Saturday,” I whined.

“A lawyer’s work is never done,” Jack said.

“You’re a lawyer?” Jennie asked Jack. She had put a hot-pink boa around her shoulders and was working it for all it was worth.

“Tell you what,” Jack said to me, “to make up for having to go to work, let me buy you a present. After all, we’ve forgotten the most important part of the costume.” He reached over to a display of “Fun Rings” and started to sift through them. He first pulled out a ring that looked like a skeleton’s head, shook his head no and continued to sift. Finding what he wanted, he handed it to Mr. Mohawk.

“On me,” Jack said as he looked at me and handed the ring over to Mr. Mohawk. It was a silver ring with a round faux diamond. It even had tiny fake baguettes. Putting it on my finger, he said, “Consider yourself engaged.”

“That’s so romantic,” Jennie swooned. Truth be told, I kind of swooned, too.

9

“This newfound stalking obsession of yours is going to get very costly,” Vanessa said, putting a piece of grilled salmon in her mouth.

Vanessa and I were in the Grill Room at the Four Seasons, the fabulously fancy midtown institution where I knew Douglas took a lot of business contacts for lunch. I had called the restaurant earlier that morning, under the guise of being Douglas’s secretary, to “confirm” his reservation, and then took the liberty of making a reservation for Vanessa and myself for thirty minutes before his reservation so that I could pretend that we just