On The Verge. Ariella Papa

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      “I think we should talk about it first and maybe give you a call tomorrow.”

      “Fine.” Kate seems a little disapproving. “I just want to advise you that apartments like this don’t last long in New York.”

      I thank Kate and Roseanne manages a smile and we are back on the streets. I don’t say a word for a while, giving Ro the chance to mull it over. We cut through Tompkins Square Park and ignore the drug pushers.

      Roseanne says nothing, but looks like she is in pain. I try to make casual conversation. “So, um, what did you think of the palace?”

      “I would sooner cut off my right arm than take a shower in the kitchen.” Well, that settles that. The idea of being alone in my house with Roseanne repulses me, so I offer to buy her dinner.

      We meet Adrian and Tabitha at the Mexican place on Eighth Avenue. It overlooks the street at all the beautiful boys walking by. The worst thing about Chelsea is that feeling of being in the best bakery in the world and having your mouth wired shut. There are no men as attractively unattainable as the ones in Chelsea. They dress well, have cuddly dogs, and probably awesome jobs and money in the bank, but you don’t stand a chance unless you have a penis.

      Adrian lives in Chelsea. He’s one of those mouth-watering boys, but I know him so I’ve gotten used to it. He also works for Prescott, and has a job he actually enjoys. He works for Little Nell, the kids magazine based on a Saturday cartoon character with that annoying theme song. I guess it embarrasses him a little, but he’s a graphic artist, which is cool no matter how you look at it. He and Tabitha go way back to the days when they temped for MTV.

      As soon as we order, I take Tabitha into the bathroom and give her the lowdown; Roseanne’s going nuts from all these dead-end interviews and ridiculous apartments. I am having trouble being positive. Tabitha seems focused on applying her MAC lipstick.

      “Are you listening to me Tabitha? She’s getting really upset. I purposely walked by the Life Café, you know, the place in Rent, and she said nothing.”

      “You mean she didn’t hyperventilate again.”

      “Oh, Tab!” I say, just to be a bitch, but she doesn’t take my bait. She is too busy studying her eyes. She did them up from a picture in a book by this great makeup artist that she loves.

      “What do you think, too much kohl?”

      “Well, not if you are going for that Cleopatra look in blue.”

      “I wish he would let me know where he gets his liquid eye-liner.”

      “Who?”

      “Kevin.” The makeup artist, of course. “It’s sweet though, you know he isn’t selling out to anyone, he’s tight-lipped about who he gets his cosmetics from. No exclusive contract, not yet anyway. How admirable.” Whatever.

      Back at the table Adrian and Roseanne are laughing loudly. There is an empty margarita glass next to Roseanne. I told you she could suck it down. Anyway, I have to hand it to Adrian, he’s definitely taking some of the edge off. Thank God.

      “I mean, I wasn’t raised to live in a place like that,” Roseanne says. She quiets down when I sit. “Imagine showering in the kitchen.”

      “Imagine,” Tabitha says. I think she’s pissy because Adrian and Rosie are getting along. Adrian is a god to Tabitha. Rosie ignores Tabitha and we actually have a great dinner. Of course Rosie and I get drunk and when the bill comes I’m not psyched about paying for Rosie’s portion and it hurts me to turn her down when she offers to pay, but I keep my word.

      While Rosie is in the bathroom, Adrian suggests we go to this gay dance club. “Adrian, the last thing I’m going to do is go to another meat market with you. If I want to see that kind of hormonal display I’ll go to the Upper East Side and get lucky with a frat boy.”

      “Listen to Miss Thing,” says Adrian, laughing. He looks at Tabitha. “And you?”

      “Well, I’m certainly not ready to go home to the ’burbs.” She smirks at us.

      “Meow,” Adrian and I purr together.

      “Your friend Rosie is nice, we should try to hook her up with a job.” What a sweetheart Adrian is. Let that be a lesson to Herself. Tabitha rolls her eyes.

      “What’s next?” asks Rosie, back at the table. I know she’s tanked.

      “Next is a whirlwind of an evening on the bus. I can’t be hungover again. You can sleep late.”

      “You could always stay over, Rosie,” Adrian offers, and I feel Tabitha kick me under the table. She would absolutely die.

      “Well, thanks, Adrian,” says Rosie softly, “but I don’t want Eve to go back by herself.”

      “Of course you don’t,” adds Tabitha definitively. She could just give me a car voucher, but I’ve got no legitimate cause to ask for one.

      We take a cab to Port Authority and catch the bus home. I plan on sleeping the whole way home. Rosie wants to talk about Chelsea.

      “I think we should live there, Eve. All those guys, I mean, I know they aren’t your type, but they all seem so built and cute—and did you notice all the dogs? That’s the kind of guy for me.” She must be kidding, but she isn’t. It only gets worse.

      “And Adrian, what’s his story? He’s so cute and nice. He’s a designer for Prescott Nelson, well, of course you know that, but how cool is that? Why didn’t you ever tell me about him? Did you like him? I kind of wanted to hang out, but I didn’t know. Are he and Tabitha together?”

      The worst part is, she’s serious. I mean, Adrian isn’t flaming and he doesn’t really fit what people would stereotype as gay, but isn’t it obvious? Does one need to be singing the show tunes to be clear about their sexuality?

      The trip turns into a harsh education for Rosie. I thought it might upset her more, but she actually takes it well. She laughs with me for the first time since she started looking for a job.

      Need I remind you again that it’s only been eleven business days?

      Tuesday morning is our staff meeting. I am mildly hungover. The staff acts like these meetings are the greatest things since the Times Square Shuttle. How much fun can you make articles about cycling? You get a real feel for what exercise geeks these writers are—they sometimes read questions that are sent in to the “Dear Biker” column and laugh about the ignorance of readers. Today is a special treat, we are watching a promotional video for some biking company that wants us to cover their newest brand.

      Everyone is on the edge of their seats, mesmerized by the amazing angles the cameraman got on the bikes. Everyone except Lorraine and me. Since Herb has seen all the footage, he manages to be even more smug than usual, like he created the bikes or something.

      I do a lot of eye rolling at Lorraine and she shakes her head. She leads the business aspect of the meeting; who is supposed to be doing what assignment, what kind of budgets the writers have and gives us feedback from different departments, lines of business as they are called. Herb does a lot of interrupting during Lorraine’s part. It amazes me that he does it with such ease. He makes the stupidest jokes СКАЧАТЬ