A Perfect Life: A Novel (16 page)

“Did you meet Mark today? He’s such a nice guy. He’s the best assistant I’ve ever had. I hope he stays forever.”

“I did meet him,” Simon confirmed with a puzzled look. “For about fourteen seconds. I was afraid I did something to upset him. I shook his hand, he looked panicked, and then he rang for the elevator and left.”

“He’s like a hummingbird,” she said, the perfect description of the man he had met. “He’s always in motion, and I told you, he’s very nervous. But he gets everything I need done.” Simon already knew how much she relied on him, and had been looking forward to meeting him. They had spoken many times on the phone.

“I hope I didn’t insult him in some way.”

“That’s just him,” she said, looking unconcerned, and then told Simon about the meeting in Washington that day. With her open, winning way, she had gotten the senator to admit he wanted to be president before he was thirty-nine years old, which was a major coup. It was going to shoot the ratings through the roof.

“Just as you always do,” Simon said, proud of her, as Blaise thought how nice it was to have someone to talk to about her day.

Mark mentioned the meeting with Simon the next day too, and he looked awkward when he spoke of it to Blaise. “You should have said something to me and warned me,” Mark chided her. “The door opened, and this hunk stood there smiling at me and held out his hand.”

“What was he supposed to do?” Blaise laughed at him. “Grab the envelope and slam the door in your face?”

“I had no idea he looked like that, Blaise. He looks like a movie star.” And then he couldn’t resist asking her the question that had been on his mind all night. They had a good relationship and she was always honest with him, unless it was something confidential she couldn’t tell him, or didn’t want him to know. He wondered if this might be one of those. “Are you in love with him?” She looked shocked when he asked the question, that he could have thought that, and she shook her head with a baffled look.

“Why would you think that? Did Simon say something inappropriate?” If so, she was going to talk to him about it, but it didn’t sound like Simon. He was polite and discreet and always very correct with her, even though they had become friends. Their developing friendship had been unexpected, but went no further than that. He had never been presumptuous or out of line with her. There had been that odd moment once at the kitchen sink, but they had both brushed it aside, and it hadn’t happened again.

“It wasn’t anything he said,” Mark corrected the impression immediately, to justifiably absolve Simon. “It’s what he looks like, and how comfortable he seems in your space. He’s right at home.”

“Obviously. He’s living there with us. You get pretty friendly when you see each other over breakfast and dinner every day, and run into each other in the kitchen at midnight over a cup of hot milk. If anything, we’re becoming friends. But I’m certainly not in love with him, and besides, he’s fifteen years younger than I am. He’s much more likely to fall for Salima than me. And there’s no sign of that either.” She sounded relieved.

“Well, if you’re not in love with him, you should be,” Mark said ruefully. “He’s the best-looking guy I’ve ever seen. And he doesn’t look his age. He looks older, and you seem like a kid. You two probably look good together. You don’t look a day older than he does.”

“Are you angling for a raise?” she teased him, but she was surprised by what he’d said. There had been no hint of romance between them, nor would there be. They would never be more than friends.

“I’m sorry. I just had to ask the question. Maybe it was wishful thinking. I was a little shocked at first. But when I think of the raw deal you got from Andrew Weyland, I wish you’d end up with a guy like Simon. You say he’s a great guy, and smart, and he’s fabulous looking. You deserve a prize after all the shit you’ve been through. And look at your ex-husband. Harry goes out with girls nearly fifty years younger than he is. What’s a mere fifteen?”

“That’s different. He’s a man. It’s acceptable when men go out with young girls. If women do it, people call them names.”

“They’re just jealous. If the opportunity arises, go for it. That’s all I have to say.” She was totally amazed by everything he’d said, and she said nothing about it to Simon that night. It would have been too embarrassing, and he probably would have thought she
was crazy and trying to put a move on him. Besides, she could tell he was still suffering over Megan. For a thousand reasons, Mark’s fantasy was never going to happen, but it was interesting to hear.

In the avalanche of stresses and challenges she dealt with every day, thanks to Zack, Susie, and a host of others, she forgot all about Mark’s comments, until the following weekend, when Simon was helping her clean out a closet to make more room for Salima’s things. Blaise still had all the toys she used to play with, and she wanted to get rid of them now to give her more space. She was on top of a ladder and teetering dangerously when she stretched too far in one direction, and Simon reached out to grab her and steady her, with a firm grasp around her waist. And he kept it there until she stepped down. As she came down the ladder, she stopped when she was eye to eye with him, and the world seemed to stand still around them. Neither of them said a word, but Blaise felt the same electric current run through her that had happened once before at the sink. She tried to tell herself it was her imagination, but this time she knew it wasn’t. And Simon didn’t take his eyes off hers, nor his hands from around her waist. She could feel him there, and for an instant she felt herself moving closer to him, and then he shifted his gaze, and helped her the rest of the way down the ladder. She had no idea what had just happened, and she was afraid to ask him. Maybe nothing had, and as she put all the old toys in boxes, she told herself she had imagined it. It was nothing. But a little voice inside her said something different. And when she looked at Simon, his eyes were guarded and he was busy.

They both pretended not to notice. And everything was back to
normal when he cooked dinner that night. Salima had requested homemade pizza, and the ones he made were delicious, with a huge salad. He had baked apple crumble for dessert, made with sugar substitutes for Salima’s diet. He served it with homemade dietetic vanilla ice cream. He was a genius at making the foods she could eat and making them taste great. And as they chatted and joked after dinner, Blaise realized again how close they’d gotten, and how at ease they were with each other, and she remembered the moment in the closet that afternoon, and the question Mark had asked her earlier in the week, about being in love with him. She didn’t think she was, but maybe those two moments that felt like an electric current running through her had been some kind of fantasy of her own. And if that was true, it made her feel like an old fool, and maybe she was. Mark was right, he was very handsome. But she saw much more than that in Simon now. She saw the person he was, the kind heart, the good values, the honesty. It was his qualities she liked so much, not his looks. That was just icing on the cake. And it was a cake she didn’t plan to eat anyway.

As though to remind her of it, Megan called him when he was sitting in the kitchen with her that night, after Salima went to her room to use her computer and write to a friend from school. They communicated through Facebook, and Salima had a lot of fun with it. Thanks to the programs on her computer, she could do Facebook like anyone else, and she loved it.

Blaise could tell instantly from the look on Simon’s face who the call was from. He hadn’t been answering Megan’s e-mails, but he had told Blaise that once in a while he took her calls, usually late at night when he was in bed, and thinking about her anyway. He admitted
that he missed her, and what he said about her sometimes reminded Blaise of how she had felt about Andrew Weyland at first, when she missed him so terribly, but knew she had done the right thing to break up with him. She had never doubted it, but she missed him anyway, and her illusions about him.

Simon looked pained the moment he took the call, and disappeared to his room with his cell phone in his hand, while Blaise sat quietly in the kitchen, thinking about that afternoon and what it meant. She was sure it was nothing, just a moment between two people who were alone. But they weren’t going to wind up with each other because of it. And Blaise wondered if he’d go back to Megan when they both went back to school. The pull between them seemed to be strong.

He came back five minutes later with an apologetic look. “Sorry. I told her she has to stop calling me. She calls every time he slaps her around. It drives me nuts. It’s why she wanted to leave him in the first place. I told her to go to Al-Anon and she won’t.”

“It’s okay,” Blaise said reassuringly. “You don’t owe me any explanations.” She could see how upset he was by the call. She wasn’t sure if that meant he still loved her, or was trying to escape and having a hard time. And Megan didn’t make it any easier by calling him all the time, just as Andrew had done. Megan was hanging on to him for dear life. But not dear enough to leave her husband.

“I won’t take her calls anymore,” he said as much to himself as to her.

“Don’t feel bad,” she said with a sympathetic look. “I still take Andrew’s calls sometimes, four years later, although I’m always sorry when I do. It’s just an echo of old times, and not a good one
for me.” But she knew it was different for him with Megan. Their relationship was more recent and the pain still very fresh.

“I think she loves me, or she says she does,” Simon said, with a troubled look. “The problem is she loves him too, even if she won’t admit it to me. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t still be with him, after three years with me. Maybe she loves him more.” He was still trying to sort it out, although he felt better since he’d come to New York and had some distance from her and her troubled life.

“Or history and kids,” Blaise said sensibly. “It’s hard to know why people stay together. Andrew has cheated on his wife for years, and probably always will. And she puts up with it. And I’m sure they’ll never leave each other. They like the fantasy of their marriage, but there’s not much there. Some people are willing to settle for that.”

“That’s not enough for me,” Simon said, looking anguished. “I want the real deal or I’d rather be alone.”

“Yeah, beware of what you wish for. That’s what I said, and now look at me. I’m alone, and probably always will be. At your age, you have lots of relationships ahead of you.” It made her sad to think about it, that her romantic life might well be over. It certainly looked that way. And in a lot of ways, she had made her peace with it, and told herself she didn’t have time anyway. Who could handle a relationship when you had a career like hers? She had neither the time, nor the energy. Her life with the network was all consuming, just as Harry had said. And nothing had changed. For one shining moment, she had believed in what she shared with Andrew. And he had made a mockery of it. It didn’t make her want to try again.

“I told Megan I was happy here,” Simon interrupted her train of
thought. “It’s true. I’d really like to find a job in New York for next year.” He sounded hopeful as he said it.

“Then start looking,” Blaise encouraged him. “There are some excellent schools for the blind here. You should fill out some applications, and take a look at the schools while you’re in New York. You can even take Salima with you.” Blaise had no intention of keeping her in New York, once Caldwell opened again, and Salima had never asked to stay at home. She knew it wasn’t an option. But it was clear that Simon wanted a chance at something new, and Blaise thought it would be good for him.

They spent an easy quiet weekend. And on Sunday night she flew to L.A. Pat Olden, the congressman who’d been shot at UCLA, had died without regaining consciousness. Blaise wanted to attend his funeral, and pay her respects, and then she was interviewing the head of the university on Monday afternoon. Afterward, she was filming a special with a hot new movie star on Tuesday, and returning Tuesday night. Simon had promised her he’d take care of everything. And she kissed them both goodbye when she left.

“Call me if anything comes up,” she said to Simon, as he carried her bag to the elevator for her.

“You know I will. We’ll be fine.” He smiled at her. And in the flash of an instant, she thought she saw something in his eyes that she had seen twice before, and then it was gone. And there was no doubt in her mind. She had imagined it. Mark was crazy. She was sure of it. She and Simon were just friends, and it was enough for both of them.

Pat Olden’s funeral was as heart-wrenching as Blaise had expected it to be. He had been shot down in the prime of life, at forty-three, with a wife who loved him, a great career, and four terrific kids. Who knew? He might have been president one day. It was all so unfair, Blaise thought to herself. The first lady had spoken, and the president had sent a message to Pat’s family because he couldn’t be there. And Pat’s wife and children were devastated. The death toll from that day had reached eighteen, including the shooter. It was tragic.

Her interview with the president of the university that afternoon went extremely well. It was a serious conversation about the dangers to young people today, and a certain hopelessness in youth around the world, due to the economy, the environment, and the opportunities that had dwindled for them in recent years. It was a strong message to parents everywhere to pay attention to their kids.

And the next day she spent with the young movie star, which was a welcome counterpoint to her serious interview the day before. The star was outrageous, sexy, and full of fun, and had just
won a Golden Globe at twenty-one. Blaise had asked her every question she’d dared, and the girl had answered them all and had volunteered some shocking information of her own. It was the kind of interview Blaise loved to do sometimes, to break the monotony of the more sober ones. And she had nailed this one easily. It was lighthearted, sexy, and the subject was outspoken and ingenuous. Blaise was pleased when she flew back to New York on the red-eye and fell asleep on the plane.