Neurotica (35 page)

He answered before the first ring.

“O'Hanlon.” Robert always sounds incredibly butch on the phone.

“It's me. You are not going to believe this.”

“Try me.” Keyboard clacking.

“Somehow an e-mail from Nancy to Carl was misrouted to me. They're not going to consider me for Jem's job.” Tears at the back of my throat threatened to choke me. This only happens with Robert and my mother.

“Holy shit.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Hang on.”

I can hear Robert ordering his minions around in a charming, drill sergeant-esque kind of way. Robert is creative director at a trendy advertising agency in The City, and that, in addition to his brilliant wit, ridiculously handsome black Irish looks, and ambiguous sexual orientation, has everyone from junior copywriters to VPs in a constant dither to get his attention.

“Okay, I'm back. What are you going to do, lovey?”

“I don't know. I've worked hard for this, and I deserve it! It sucks, it just sucks   .   .   .” Then I ranted a little more.

“Okay, what time is it?” he asked when I was done. I held my tongue on this one because most of Robert's non sequitur remarks end up somewhere good.

“Three forty-five.”

“Leave. Leave right now and meet me at work.”

“I can't. I have to finish editing this week's bullpen and call some of the freelancers and—”

“No. Drop everything. It is absolutely essential that you leave immediately and take the special O'Hanlon job-fuck treatment.”

Treatment?

Which is how I ended up puking in a gutter at three
a.m.,
the
Meredith Gazette
editor's business card crumpled in the back pocket of my favorite jeans.

The next few weeks passed in a holding pattern. I struggled with how to act around Nancy and Carl, who, presumably, weren't aware that their betrayal had been discovered. In the meantime, I hung out with Robert, went to the movies, and spent one wrenching nuclear familial afternoon with Jem and her husband Micah, watching their adorable baby Milo systematically destroy their living room. As always, Jem's view of my situation was illuminating.

“Why don't you just take that job in Montana with that friend of Robert's?”

“Montana? Jem, are you kidding? I live here, I have a
life
here. I can't just go off half-cocked to the boondocks for the first half-baked offer I get.” I stroked Jem's old red Lab, Bonnie.

Jem put her latte down and looked at me. “How do you think I ended up in San Francisco, Jennifer? Do you think the Abbotts and the Pierces grow up thinking of the West Coast as a civilized place with cities and culture and decent marital prospects? Hell, no,” she snorted. “I'm not saying Montana is the panacea for everything you feel is wrong with your life, but you need to look at what is really keeping you here. You came out because of Damon, and I wonder if you're still here because of him. If I were your age, I'd definitely consider it. You're like me. We like everything scripted and deliberate and guaranteed. And that's fine, but it would a shame for you to miss out on some really interesting opportunities just because you still hold out hope that Damon—who has his own baggage, mind you—will realize what he gave up and come back to you.”

I doodled happy faces on the corner of
The New York Times
crossword. I knew she was right. I had rationalized my solitude over the past two years as a kind of break between relationships, and a day didn't go by that I didn't bemoan my lack of a partner to experience life with. It was interfering with   .   .   . oh, just living, and I knew it.

“I suppose it wouldn't hurt to send him my résumé,” I said slowly.

Jem gave me her serene, patrician smile.

“I've always wanted to see Glacier National Park.” My voice quickened. “I could sublet my apartment, maybe even take a leave of absence at the
Tech Standard.
It's not like it has to be a permanent thing—more like a vacation, really. A chance to do some beat reporting, see the country, get away from here for a while. If I don't like it, I can come home anytime.”

Now I was getting excited. I could reinvent myself in the great outdoors, the Wild West, home of the free and survivalistic. A vision of me slinging a battered four-wheel-drive truck into a snowy parking lot crystallized. I would live in a cabin à la the Unabomber and order all my clothes from L. L. Bean. I would get to know people who gutted fish, shot moose, and maintained stern silences when confronted with the sissified behavior of city folk. I would eat steak for breakfast. I would be automagically skinny, a fortunate side effect of extreme cold and daily tussles with bears. If I didn't rope steer and barrel-race horses myself, I would at least drink beer with those who did.

I was going to Montana.

NEUROTICA

A Delta Book/published by arrangement with Headline Book
Publishing, a division of Hodder Headline PLC.

PUBLISHING HISTORY

Headline edition/1998

Bantam hardcover edition/July 1999

Bantam mass market edition/February 2000

Delta trade paperback edition/September 2003

Published by

Bantam Dell

A Division of Random House, Inc.

New York, New York

All rights reserved

Copyright © 1998 by Sue Margolis

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 98-76978

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

Delta is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc., and the
colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

Visit our website at
www.bantamdell.com

Published simultaneously in Canada

eISBN: 978-0-440-33461-3

v3.0