The Futures(36)

Little things. New intimacies. Slipping his hand down my back, pressing his hip against mine. Adam was debating with Jake about some recent development in the Lehman bankruptcy. They kept talking, talking. I couldn’t follow the conversation, but it didn’t matter. Adam was at my side, and I was certain I was the only thing he was thinking about. He never even bothered to say hello to the girls hosting the party.

After a while, Abby rested her head against Jake’s shoulder. “What do you think—should we get going?” she said. “We have to get up early tomorrow.”

She said to me and Adam, “We’re meeting his parents for brunch.”

I raised my eyebrows. We? Parents? Brunch?

She shook her head to dismiss my implication, but again—that blush. They were a couple. A real couple, no matter what she said.

“Oh, shit,” Jake said. “I forgot to tell you. My dad canceled. My mom thinks we should wait till he’s back. She said maybe in a few weeks.”

Abby’s smile wilted. “Why?”

“Some business meeting, I guess. He’s off in the Caribbean for something.”

I coughed, almost choking on my wine. It finally added up. Eleanor’s rocketing ascent at the foundation. Her power over Laurie. Her possessive smile at the sound of Henry’s name. We’re very close. An image of Henry and Eleanor under a dark sky and a tropical moon. Drinking Champagne, sex on smooth white sheets, the ocean crashing against the shore outside their villa. Tall palm trees dramatically lit from below. Each one of them an aphrodisiac to the other.

“Tough life,” Adam said heartily.

“Well,” Abby said, more subdued. “We should go, anyway. It’s late.”

The black mood descended again, magnified by the fact that I was by that point blazingly drunk. I couldn’t believe it—this was what my life looked like? My best friend was sleeping with my secret ex, whose father was sleeping with my coworker. My boyfriend was ignoring me, in love with his job instead. And I was treading water in a pool of dead-end nothingness. What the hell had happened? When did it all go so wrong?

Adam got us a cab and told the driver to stop at my place first. It was the gentlemanly thing to do, but I knew what it meant. Adam lived alone. If he wanted to sleep with me, he would have brought me back to his place on the Upper West Side. The flirting meant nothing at the end of the night. I wasn’t pretty or cool or charming or sophisticated enough. Everyone was moving forward, and I was getting left behind.

I was quiet and sullen, finally too drunk to conceal it. Adam noticed.

“You okay, Jules?”

“I’m fine. It’s just…I don’t know. Ugh.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“You can tell me.”

“God. Adam.” I snapped. “This sucks. I’m all by myself. Completely alone. Everywhere I go.”

He reached for my hand. “Don’t say that. You have me. I’m right here.”

“I don’t have you, though. I have this lousy boyfriend who doesn’t give two shits about me because he’s too busy with this fucking lumber deal.”

“Maybe it’ll be over soon,” Adam said carefully. It wasn’t the first time I had complained about Evan’s devotion to his work. “It can’t last forever.”

“I mean, Jesus, the way he talks about it. It’s like the universe revolves around this fucking middle-of-nowhere Canadian lumber company. Pacific WestCorp. It’s so important. They’re gonna make so much money off it. They’re gonna be rich and famous. You know, I can’t remember the last time he even asked me how my day was. How work is. None of it. He’s an asshole. He doesn’t think about anyone but himself.”

I was ranting, but I couldn’t help myself. Abby and Jake, Henry and Eleanor. I couldn’t complain about any of them, so my anger funneled toward Evan instead. “WestCorp Timber is gonna make Spire more money than any deal on Wall Street.” I imitated Evan’s voice in a snide tone. “People’s heads are gonna turn. Him and Michael Casey, at the top of the fucking world. Fuck all of it.”

The lights of Manhattan glittered up ahead. We were zooming across the bridge, the East River rippling below like black velvet.

“It’s disgusting,” I added. The torrent wouldn’t stop. “They’re so fucking arrogant. He’s saying this trade is foolproof. It’s like they didn’t even notice what’s been happening. How fucked up everything is. How screwed the rest of us are.”

Adam was silent, probably dreading the rest of the ride. Even through my drunken haze, I saw what an idiot I was, complaining about my boyfriend, like that was a turn-on. Great. He was never going to call me again.

But then he slid close and put his arm around my waist. I closed my eyes and turned my face away, trying not to cry. The cab accelerated into a curve on the FDR, pulling me into the corner. “Jules,” he said softly. “Jules, it’s okay.” Adam took my chin in his hand and turned my face toward him, and then he kissed me.

We broke away a moment later, pausing. Then we kept going. He slid his hand under my shirt, and I felt him go hard through his jeans. He kissed my neck, ran his fingers through my hair. The solid heft of his body, the pressure of affection—I’d been missing this for so long. The feeling of someone else’s hands showing me what to do next. My body had almost forgotten how to do this.