Lipstick Jungle

A jolt of her tray suddenly brought her back to earth. Someone had bumped her tray. She immediately looked down and saw a man’s hand resting against the edge of her tray. It was smooth and well-formed and slightly tanned, and it suddenly made her think of sex. Then she looked up and froze. The hand belonged to Selden Rose.

That was just typical! she thought. “Trying to run my tray off the road?” she asked rudely.

“Oh, Wendy,” he said, startled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was you.”

“So if you had known it was me, you wouldn’t have bumped my tray?”

“No,” he said. “I would have bumped it even harder. You can handle it.”

She gasped quietly. This was so extraordinary (Was he trying to flirt? Or was he blatantly threatening her?) that she didn’t know what to say.

She took a good look at him, instead. In the last month, he must have grown his hair, because it was longer than usual and tucked behind his ears. He smiled. “I guess we’re both here for the same thing,” he said.

We are? Wendy thought. What was he talking about? He actually looked cute. She never in a million years thought she would flirt with Selden Rose, but she found herself responding, “Oh? And what might that be?”

“Fresh meat,” Selden said. He leaned toward her, speaking in a low voice close to her ear. “It’s one of the best kept secrets in New York. Thursdays. Splatch-Verner executive dining room.” He paused. “Roast Beef Special. Direct from the Old Man’s cattle ranch in Colorado.”

“Really?” Wendy asked, finding herself actually impressed and uncomfortably titillated. How was it that Selden Rose always knew these kinds of details and not her? And why was he being so friendly all of a sudden?

Ha! Who was she kidding, she thought. Everyone who got to their level was more than capable of being utterly charming when they wanted something. Not to be outdone, she said, “Thank you, Selden. I’ll keep your suggestion in mind.”

“My pleasure, Wendy. I’m always happy to turn people on to gastronomical delights.”

Wendy looked at him sharply. Was there a sexual innuendo there? He raised his eyebrows and smiled as if there might be, and a couple of responses along the lines of “other possible delights” flitted through her head. But she decided to say nothing. Selden Rose was the enemy, and couldn’t be trusted.

The conversation seemed to have petered out, so they continued through the line without speaking, the silence growing heavier and more uncomfortable. When she finally got to the end of the line, she was actually relieved.

She sat down at her table, awkwardly unfolding her napkin and putting it on her lap. The napkin slipped to the floor, and she bent over self-consciously to pick it up. As she did so, she saw the legs of a man’s suit pants coming toward her. Selden Rose. Again!

“Do you mind if I join you?” he asked. “I wanted to talk to you about the corporate meeting.”

This was perfectly reasonable, and she couldn’t exactly be a bitch to him for no reason. “Sure,” she said, waving the rescued napkin at the chair across from her. Selden sat down. She suddenly found herself smiling encouragingly at him, as if she was pleased to be having lunch with him. While he was busy arranging his tray, she stole another look at him. She’d always pictured Selden Rose as a bit of a schlump, but now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe it was how he was dressed. His tailored navy suit, worn with an open white dress shirt, screamed casual power. She picked up her fork. “You don’t need an excuse to sit with me, Selden,” she said.

“That’s good,” he said, sitting down across from her. “By the way, I wasn’t looking for an excuse. I just didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Really,” Wendy said, thinking that he’d shown no such compunctions for her feelings in the past. “This is a first.”

“Aw, Wendy,” he said, looking at her as if she’d gotten him all wrong. He raised his hand and signaled to the waiter. “I’ve been meaning to call you about Tony Cranley.”

Wendy felt a spark of inexplicable anger. Nearly everything seemed to be pissing her off these days. “Tony?” she asked, followed by a harsh, dismissive laugh.

“We all know he’s an asshole,” Selden said smoothly. “But a very hot one.”

“Is he?” Wendy asked.

“Isn’t he?” Selden said. “I thought he was the kind of guy you women go crazy over.”

Wendy gave him a disgusted look. Was Selden trying to tell her that he was an asshole himself, and that she should, therefore, like him? Or was this one of those tests? Was he trying to say that if she liked assholes, she wouldn’t like him? What was going on? Selden knew she thought he was an asshole. Or did he? “Men are so stupid,” Wendy said.

“Don’t you like assholes?” Selden asked cockily.

Was he, somehow, referring to Shane? No, she thought. He couldn’t know about that already. He was probably just being flippant. Most likely he was simply being . . . an asshole.

“Don’t you like gold-digging bitches?” she snapped.

This didn’t, however, elicit the response she’d been anticipating. Instead of bantering back, Selden put down his fork and looked out the window. He actually looked . . . sad. “Selden?” she said cautiously.

“I was married to one,” he said simply.