Insatiable

Chapter Eight

2:00 P.M. EST, Tuesday, April 13

ABN Building

520 Madison Avenue

New York, New York

YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED…

WHAT: A fancy dinner at our place, 910 Park Avenue, Apt. 11A

WHEN: Thursday, April 15, at 7:30 P.M.

WHY: Emil’s cousin, the prince, is in town!

DRESS: Fancy! DRESS UP! This is your chance to meet real, old-fashioned royalty! Dig out your fanciest, sexiest, most expensive shoes and dresses and have fun! No need to feel down just because your husband won’t let you take the platinum card out for a spin! Shop your closet and we’ll see you on Thursday!

xoxo Mary Lou

Meena stared at her computer monitor.

She was supposed to be working on the dialogue for next week’s explosive scene in which Tabby confronted her mother for sleeping with her riding instructor, Romero, on whom Tabby herself had a crush.

But all she could think about was Shoshona’s promotion and her horrible vampire story line, which Fran and Stan had, of course, approved, agreeing with the network (who agreed with CDI) that it was going to make Insatiable more appealing to the all-important eighteen-to-forty-nine female demographic…which would in turn bring in more advertising money. Which would in turn get them all raises (the Insatiable writing staff had been under a pay freeze for more than a year).

Then Mary Lou’s e-mail had popped into her in-box.

And Meena lost all ability whatsoever to concentrate on anything else.

Appalled, Meena forwarded the e-mail to her best friend, Leisha.

“Who is this person?” Leisha called a few minutes later to ask.

“My next-door neighbor Mary Lou,” Meena said, astonished that Leisha wouldn’t remember. She only complained about something Mary Lou had said or done every other day.

“Oh, that’s right,” Leisha said. “The one you used to like until she started stalking you on the elevator every day-”

“-trying to fix me up with every single guy she knows,” Meena finished for her, “after David and I broke up. Right. Plus, she keeps going on about how she traced her husband Emil’s ancestry back to Romanian royalty. She figured out he’s a count, which makes her a-”

“Countess,” Leisha said. Meena could hear hair dryers buzzing in the background. Leisha worked as a stylist at a high-end salon in SoHo. “Wasn’t she the one on the co-op board of your building who wouldn’t let you and David buy the apartment at first because you weren’t married? But then when she found out you write for Insatiable, she changed her mind because she’s a big Victoria Worthington Stone fan?”

“Yeah,” Meena said. She took a bite from the mini-Butterfinger she’d pulled from her secret snack drawer. “And she hates Jon but she pretends she doesn’t.”

“What’s she hate your brother for?” Now Leisha sounded surprised.

“She thinks he’s a mooch for moving in with me,” Meena said. “The real question is, how am I going to get out of going to her party?”

“Uh,” Leisha said, “no offense…but why wouldn’t you go? Last I heard, your social calendar wasn’t exactly jam-packed.”

“Yeah, well,” Meena said, “I don’t have time to be hobnobbing with alleged Romanian princes when I need to be worrying about what’s going to happen next to Victoria Worthington Stone and her vulnerable yet headstrong daughter, Tabitha.” Meena took another bite of her mini-Butterfinger. The important thing was to make each one last as long as possible, which was difficult, because they were so small.

“Stupid of me,” Leisha said. “Of course. So what is going to happen to Victoria Worthington Stone and her vulnerable yet headstrong daughter, Tabitha?”

Meena sighed. “One guess. It came down from on high today. Written on a stone tablet from Consumer Dynamics Inc. itself.”

“What was it?”

“Lust started a vampire story arc, and they’re killing us in the ratings. So…”

Leisha let out a little burble of laughter. “Oh, yeah. Gregory Bane. Guys have been asking me to do their hair like his for weeks. Like it’s an actual style and not something accomplished with a razor blade and some mousse. People are psycho for that guy.”

“Tell me about it.” Meena spun around in her office chair so she could look away from her computer screen and out over the gray valley of skyscrapers that made up Fifty-third Street between Madison and Fifth. She knew that, somewhere out there, Yalena was finding out that her dreams of a new life in America weren’t exactly turning out the way she’d expected them to. Meena wondered how long it would be before she’d call. Or if she’d ever call. “I don’t get it. The guy looks like a toothpick. With hair.”

Leisha bubbled with more laughter. Meena loved the sound of Leisha’s laughter. It cheered her up and reminded her of the old days, before they’d both ended up with mortgages.

Still, Meena felt obligated to say, “It’s not funny. You know how I feel about vampires.”

“Yeah,” Leisha said, sounding a little bored. “What is it you’re always saying again? In the cult of monster misogyny, vampires are king?”

“Well,” Meena said, “they do always seem to choose to prey on pretty female victims. And yet for some reason, women find this sexy.”

“I don’t,” Leisha said. “I want to be killed by Frankenstein. I like ’ em big. And stupid. Don’t tell my husband.”

“Even though these guys admit over and over to wanting to kill us,” Meena went on, “the idea that they’re nobly restraining themselves from doing so is supposed to be attractive? Excuse me, but how is knowing a guy wants to kill you hot?”

“The fact that he wants to but doesn’t makes some girls feel special,” Leisha said simply. “Plus, vampires are all rich. I could deal with having some rich guy who wants to kill me-but is nobly restraining himself-being super into me right now. Adam doesn’t have a job, but he won’t even help with the laundry.”

“Vampires aren’t real!” Meena shouted into the phone.

“Calm down. Look, I don’t see what the big deal is,” Leisha said. “If someone who can tell how everyone she meets is going to die can exist, why can’t vampires?”

Meena took a deep breath. “Did I tell you Shoshona got the gig as head writer? Why don’t you just twist the knife?”

“Oh, my God.” Leisha sounded apologetic. “I’m so, so sorry, Meen. What are you going to do?”

“What can I do?” Meena asked. “Wait it out. She’s going to screw up eventually. Hopefully when she does, the show and I will both still be here, and I can step in and save the day.”

“Got it,” Leisha said. “Hero complex.”

Meena knit her brows. “What?”

“Vampires are monster misogynists,” Leisha said. “And you have a hero complex. You always have. Of course you think you’re going to save the show. And probably the world, while you’re at it.”

Meena snorted. “Right. Enough about me. How’s Adam?”

“Hasn’t gotten off the couch in three days,” Leisha replied.

Meena nodded, forgetting that Leisha couldn’t see her. “That’s normal for the first month after a layoff.”

“He just lies there in front of CNN, like a zombie. He’s starting to freak out about this serial killer thing.”

“What serial killer thing?” Then Meena remembered what Shoshona had been talking about in her meeting with Sy. “Oh, that thing with the dead girls, in the parks?”

“Exactly. You know, he actually grunted at me the other day when I asked him if he’d picked up the mail from the box downstairs.”

Meena sighed. “Jon was the same way after he lost his job and had to move in with me. At least he does laundry now. Only because I have a washer-dryer unit in the apartment and you can’t help tripping over the piles on the way to it.”

“I asked Adam when he was going to get started with the baby’s room,” Leisha said. “Or the baby’s alcove, I guess I should call it, since that room is so small, it’s practically a closet. Still, he has to put a door on it, and the drywall, and paint it and everything. You know what he said? It’s still too early and that there’s plenty of time. Thomas is coming in two months! Sometimes I don’t know if we’re going to make it. I really don’t.”

“Yes, you will,” Meena said soothingly. “We’ll get through all of this. Really, we will.”

Meena didn’t believe this, of course. It had been months since her brother, Jon, had been laid off from the investment company where he’d worked as a systems analyst, and he was no closer to finding a job than he’d been the day of his firing…same as Leisha’s husband, Adam, who’d been Jon’s college roommate before Jon had introduced him to Leisha. The few jobs that were out there in their fields had hundreds, maybe thousands, of equally qualified applicants vying for them.

“Is that a prediction?” Leisha asked.

“It is,” Meena said firmly.

“I’m holding you to that,” Leisha said. “Well, good luck with the prince. I’d wear black. Black is always appropriate. Even for meeting royalty.” She hung up.

Meena set the receiver down, chewing her lower lip. She hated lying to Leisha.

Because things weren’t going to be fine.

Something was wrong. Leisha kept telling Meena that her due date was two months away.

And maybe that’s what her doctor had said.

But the doctor was wrong. Every time Leisha said it-“Thomas is coming in two months”-Meena felt an uncomfortable twinge.

The baby-Meena was positive-was coming next month. Possibly even sooner than that.

And Thomas! Leisha and Adam wanted to name their baby Thomas Weinberg!

That kid was going to be a pretty funny-looking Thomas, considering that it was a girl and not a boy.

But how did you tell an expectant mother that everything her doctor was saying was wrong…when it was all just based on a feeling? Especially when all of your previous predictions had been about death, not a new life?

Easy. You didn’t tell her at all. You kept your mouth zipped up tight.

Turning back to her computer monitor, Meena was confronted again with Mary Lou’s e-mail. Sometimes she found it hard to believe there were still people who didn’t have to work for a living…ladies with princes for relatives who did nothing but plan elaborate parties and use their husband’s credit card to go shopping all day.

And then meanwhile there were girls like Yalena, being preyed upon by scumbags like her boyfriend, Gerald, about whom the cops could do exactly nothing…

But these people existed.

And they lived right in her building. Right next door to her, in fact.

Meena resolutely hit Delete, then opened a new document and began to write.