Incorporeal (12 page)

You don’t like raw oysters, so what’s the deal?
She sipped her wine.
I don’t know what the deal is, but they sure are yummy with this exceptional wine. A little sweet, a tiny bit of salt, and a little sour from the mignonette. Triple yum.

She tried the Kusshi. These tiny round oysters tasted so delightfully of the ocean that she had no choice but to close her eyes for a moment. The Kusshi reminded her of sex with Nathan.
Bliss
.

Sipping the remainder of her wine, Sara finished the oysters. She had to get going. As she waited for the hostess to bring her check, she watched the couple next to her share their platter of oysters, all different kinds. When they touched their glasses together, Sara pretended not to notice. The young couple sitting to her left ordered two glasses of Tattinger too.

Nathan would enjoy this scene
.
I’d love to share raw oysters and a bottle of wine with him. Afterwards we could walk along the water.

Yeah, well Nathan can never be part of this scene; he’s not going to walk along the waterfront holding your hand, so pay up and shut up
.

The oysters suddenly turned to lead in the pit of her stomach. She looked around, uneasy, wondering if the problem was her worry about losing Nathan or her anxiety about meeting with the publisher.

Great
,
that’s what you get for celebrating anything
.

After thanking the hostess and waving to the two men shucking oysters, Sara rose from her seat, removed her bags from the hook, and threaded her way through the oyster bar. She didn’t have far to walk; she’d made reservations for dinner at the restaurant right across the hallway.

Five minutes to go. Sara squeezed past a long line of waiting customers trying to reach the hostess desk. She managed to catch the woman’s eye.

“
Hello. I have a reservation for four at six-thirty.”

“
Name?”

“
It’s under Wise, Sara Wise.”

The hostess scrolled down her computer screen. “Yes, I see it.” She took a quick glance behind Sara. “Is the rest of your party here?”

Sara looked back at the line of customers as well. “No, sorry, they’re not here yet.”

“
You can wait over there.” The woman motioned to a bank of occupied chairs. “Just let me know when they arrive.”

“
Sure, thanks.” Sara stepped out of the line of people eager to get their names on the wait list for dinner. There wasn’t much room to maneuver. She managed a spot next to a large statue, but she had to twist sideways every time the door to the outside opened and closed. Sara pulled out her phone and sent Geri a text message.

At the restaurant
.

It took Geri a few minutes to reply. Sara read the message and did a double take.
Still shopping
.

She texted back,
It’s after six-thirty
.

Geri’s next text said,
I know
.

Damn it. I knew something like this would happen.
Sara sent another text message.
When will you be here???

Don’t know. Soon.

Sara made her way back to the hostess. “Um, Miss, how long will you hold my reservation? The rest of my party’s been delayed.”

The woman tried hard not to roll her eyes. She just barely succeeded. After the huge fuss Sara had made about getting that golden six-thirty reservation slot, she wanted to roll her eyes right along with her. “I can keep the table open for another twenty minutes or so. Do you think your party will be here by then?”

“
I hope so. Thanks.” Sara returned to her tiny space near the door.

An hour and fifteen minutes later, lighter by the sixty dollars she’d given the wait staff to hold the table, Sara was near tears. As she headed for the door, intending to catch a bus home, Geri materialized at her side.

“
Where are Leah and Priscilla?”

Sara blinked a few times, trying to clear her blurred vision. “What do you mean, where are Leah and Priscilla? How should I know? I haven’t seen anyone until just now when you showed up.”

“
I could throttle her. I dropped them off fifteen minutes ago and told them to meet you here while I parked the car. They’re probably shopping.” Geri snorted. “Do you know what I’ve been through today?”

Sara shook her head, too upset to speak.

“
At six-thirty, when we were supposed to be here, she plops herself down in a chair at the make-up department in Bloomingdales and says to the girl at the counter,
I want a makeover
. I remind her for the umpteenth time that we have a six-thirty dinner reservation and she says;
I’ll just get a mini-makeover
. Can you believe it? I have been her personal shopper all day long and if I have to listen to her go on about…” Geri stopped in mid-rant. She pointed to the other entrance. “There they are. C’mon.” She grabbed Sara by the arm and dragged her back inside the restaurant. “Did you manage to hold our table?”

Sara nodded. Embarrassed by the obvious quiver in her voice, she informed the hostess her party had arrived. She and Geri followed the hostess to their table while Leah and Priscilla disappeared again.

“
They went to the bathroom,” Geri said in a loud whisper.

“
Who’s Priscilla?” asked Sara.

“
Oh, someone from this conference Leah’s attending tomorrow. I think she’s wants to be a writer, but I don’t think she’s written anything. I had to listen to her giggle all day.” Geri got the waiter’s attention and ordered a glass of Chardonnay. “And keep ‘em coming.” She turned to Sara. “Do you want anything?”

Sara shook her head. When she put it all together, the oysters, the sparkling wine and standing in one place for nearly an hour and a half, she realized wasn’t feeling very well.

Leah, with Priscilla giggling in her wake, appeared at the table. Without a word or even a glance, she scooted onto the bench next to Sara. Priscilla sat across from Sara, a perpetual grin sewn on her face.

“
So what’s good here?” Leah asked no one in particular. Sara watched her fiddle with the menu, but she noticed Leah didn’t look at it.

“
Leah,” interrupted Geri, “this is Sara Wise, the author I told you about.”

Sara extended a hand towards Leah, but it was ignored as the waiter approached. “So what’s good here?” Leah repeated. “Oh, and I’d like an ice tea right away.”

At the sound of Priscilla’s chortle, Sara withdrew her hand and shoved it in her pocket. She was grateful for the dim lighting.
My face must be beet red
.

“
Everything’s good here,” Geri said. “They have the best…”

Leah didn’t wait for Geri to finish. She spoke to the waiter. “I’ll have some chicken stir fry.”

The waiter appeared dumbstruck for a few moments. “Madam,” he said at last, “we don’t offer chicken stir fry. We are not a Chinese restaurant; we are a Thai restaurant and we’re known all over the Bay area for our wonderful Thai cuisine.”

As Sara watched, open-mouthed, Leah waved a hand in the waiter’s face. Surprised, the man backed up a step. “You have chicken, don’t you? And you have vegetables, don’t you? Throw them together, stir fry them and that will be adequate. I don’t really care.”

Priscilla found that hilarious; their server less so.

But Leah, you’re the one who specifically asked for a reservation at this restaurant
.

Feeling very ill at ease, Sara was grateful when Geri ordered for the two of them, while Priscilla ordered an
ice tea like Leah’s
. Sara couldn’t make out a thing else anyone said over the intermittent giggling and the ambient noise in the crowded restaurant.

At last the waiter completed their orders, and with thinly veiled contempt, stalked off toward the kitchen.
To ask for chicken stir fry
.
Leah had better hope some disgruntled sous chef doesn’t spit in her food
. The notion improved Sara’s mood a little.

“
So.”

Sara jumped at the voice in her ear. She turned in Leah’s direction.

“
Aren’t you gonna pitch to me?”

Sara was taken aback. “I’m sorry, what did you ask?”

Leah adjusted the purple pashmina about her shoulders, folded her arms across her chest, and leaned back into the upholstered seat.

“
I said, aren’t you gonna pitch to me. Where’s your three-line pitch? Let’s hear it.”

Cheeks burning, Sara turned towards her. “I’m sorry. I haven’t prepared one.”

“
Why not? Isn’t that why I’m here? Isn’t that why you wanted to meet with me?”

“
Why I wanted…?” Sara chose her words with care, making certain Leah could hear her over Priscilla’s loud giggles. “Actually, I was under the impression we were having dinner together. I assumed we’d spend some time in conversation. You’d tell me what you do, talk about your trip out here, discuss the sort of genres you’re looking for, the authors you work with; and if you have some interest, I’ll be happy to describe what I’m writing.”

“
You see? You see?” Leah pointed an accusing finger at Geri. “This is the problem. I don’t have time for conversation. The three-line pitch is everything.” She turned back to Sara. “If you can’t deliver a three-line pitch on cue, you won’t get anywhere in this business.”

Sara clenched her fists. Now she understood why Geri had said she’d wanted to throttle Leah Rosen. Making every effort to keep her voice even, Sara asked, “Don’t you get sick of people trying to sell something all the time? This is a wonderful restaurant. Wouldn’t you prefer to enjoy your dinner and some conversation?”

Leah’s eyes opened wide. She seemed to see Sara for the first time, looking her over from head to toe, or at least from head to waist. Sara hoped this meant a light would go on in Leah’s eyes. No such luck.

“
No. I’m not much for food and you’re here to sell me on yourself, nothing more. So do you plan to give me a pitch or what?” Leah turned away from Sara as the waiter set down her glass of ice tea. “Bring me the entire carafe,” she said. She didn’t seem to notice his snort of disgust.

Jesus H. Christ, what have I gotten myself into?

Leah turned back to her. “I’m waiting.”

Sara sighed. “I’m sorry, I don’t have a three-line pitch prepared, but I did bring along three manuscripts and…”

“
Nope. Nevermind.” She dismissed Sara with a wave. “I don’t look at manuscripts unless they come from my own authors.”

Sara felt the press of the leather satchel against the backs of her legs. Gritting her teeth, she ordered herself not to smack Leah Rosen upside the head with it.

“
You need to attend a Bucher Seminar. That’s what I’m in the Bay Area for. That’s how you get ahead in this business.”

Sara tried and failed to muster some interest, but for the sake of politeness, she asked, “What’s a Bucher Seminar?”

“
Oh.” Leah’s voice became animated. “This will be my fourth. He teaches you how to get past all your blockades, you know, how to unblock your energy.” Leah swiveled on the bench again, until her knee pressed against Sara’s thigh. “If you’d attended a Bucher Seminar, you wouldn’t have any problem coming up with a three-line pitch like that.” She snapped her fingers in Sara’s face.

“
I’m attending too,” said Priscilla, a smug look on her face.

Sara glanced at Geri, but failed to catch her eye. Her friend was busy signaling the waiter for another glass of wine.

All right, swallow your pride, and ask
. Sara put her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand. She focused all her attention on Leah. “Oh? How does he unblock your energy?”

Leah’s smile was as smug as Priscilla’s. “He helps you confront your mother issues. I mean, c’mon, we all have mother issues. Take my mother, for instance. When she visits me, she cleans my house and does my laundry.”

Sara was confused. “What’s wrong with that? Isn’t she just being helpful?”

Leah’s enthusiasm increased. “It would seem that way, wouldn’t it, but no, she’s not being helpful. It’s a veiled criticism of me and my housekeeping. It’s her way of pushing my hot buttons. Oh, the fights we’ve had. You can’t imagine.”

Man, this conversation is climbing near the top of my weird stuff-o-meter and I talk to ghosts
. Sara cleared her throat. “I’m sure the situation is very difficult for you.” Sara saw Geri roll her eyes and take a big sip of her wine. “So how does the Bucher Seminar help you deal with your mother?”

“
Oh, well, he teaches you to just let it go, let it all go. Now when my mother comes, we’re like two ships passing in the night. If she wants to clean, that’s her problem, not mine. Now you…” Leah pointed that omnipresent index finger at Sara, “must suffer from a boatload of mother issues. That’s why you don’t have a three-line pitch prepared. He could help you, you know.”

Yeah, right. You’ve got me pegged. I suffer from a boatload of mother issues and they inhibit my three-line pitch presentations
.

Geri snorted, but it seemed to Sara she was the only one who noticed.

Leah continued. “All those issues are getting in the way of your career. You can’t even deliver a three-line pitch when asked.”