Lipstick Jungle

“You don’t?” he said.

She shrugged, wanting to quickly change the subject. It was one thing to agree to have dinner with him, but another to tell him about her pathetic situation. “Do you have kids?” she asked.

“I would . . .” he said, looking uncomfortable, “but I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Wendy said, taken aback.

“My first wife and I tried. We had all the tests, and it turned out I was the one with the problem. She didn’t take it that well. She cheated and I found out about it, and then I cheated.”

Wendy gasped. “That’s terrible.”

“It was a mess,” Selden agreed. “And then my second wife . . . Well, let’s just say I married someone who was the complete opposite of my first wife. We weren’t married long enough for me to find out whether or not she wanted kids, but I’m sure she didn’t. I wasn’t rich enough for her anyway.”

“Are there still women like that?” Wendy asked in horror.

“Yeah,” Selden said, pushing his hair back off his forehead. “But that one was my fault. I was stupid. She was a supermodel, and I let my ego overrule my common sense.”

“At least you figured it out,” Wendy said encouragingly, relieved that they were talking about him and not her problems, and not their prospective date. “Most men still think that if they can get a supermodel, it will solve all their problems.”

“That’s where the problems begin,” Selden said cryptically.

Wendy nodded, and sat back in her chair, impressed. Nothing made a woman feel better than a man who had been with a supermodel . . . and rejected her! There was something very comforting about it. It meant that a man had his values in the right place. She studied his face for a moment. Was Selden really that decent? Or was she making a mistake, and all of this . . . stuff . . . was just part of some schtick to . . . to do what? she wondered. If he was trying to get her into bed, was that really so bad?

“What are you doing now?” he asked suddenly. “I was just going to go for a walk though Soho. Do you want to come?”

“Why not?” Wendy said, suddenly finding the prospect of a walk with Selden Rose a lovely way to spend the morning. At least she wouldn’t be alone.

Selden paid the bill and they got up. “Hey,” he said. “I forgot to ask you. Why are you at the Mercer? Shouldn’t your husband be here instead?”

Wendy suddenly felt like crap again, remembering her conversation with Tessa Hope the day before. “He should be . . . but it’s an unusual situation. I had to give my husband the apartment.”

“Jesus, Wendy,” Selden said. “You have been through a lot.” He held open the door for her, allowing her to pass through. “If you need an apartment, I might be able to help you. I’ve got a great real estate agent.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I just might take you up on it.” And stepping outside, she thought about how nice Selden was, and how easy it was to be with a man who was nice for a change. Nice! She thought. Who would have ever imagined that that would be the quality she would end up wanting most in a man?

* * *

THREE HOURS LATER, SHE and Selden were riding up in the freight elevator to his loft, having meandered all the way to the Hudson River and back. For the first time in weeks she’d been able to enjoy herself a little, actually forgetting about Shane and his frightening demands. It was so strange and exciting to be walking on a Sunday with a man who wasn’t her husband, and acting like a couple, poking into various shops and stopping for yet another coffee. She’d bought a dress for Chloe, a stuffed dinosaur for Tyler, which Selden had picked out, and a jacket for Magda, and all the while they had talked and talked, as if they both knew that when they stopped talking, the

y would finally have to part company. When they’d reached West Broadway again, she’d looked down, not wanting to leave, but not knowing what else to do, and he had said, “Do you want to see my loft? I could give you the number of my real estate agent.”

“That would be great,” she’d said, relieved and suddenly elated again.

“I have to warn you, I’m not that big on decorating . . .”

“Neither am I,” she said, stealing a glance at him. He was looking back at her, and they both looked quickly away, embarrassed. Everything they needed to know was in that look, she thought. It said, “I want to have sex with you, now. And I hope you want to have sex with me too.” She hadn’t experienced that look for years, not since she was single—over fifteen years ago! Funny how it all came back—the dry mouth, the insides that felt like they were on springs. The fear and excitement over the prospect of unknown territory. A different body, a new penis, and hoping that the sex wouldn’t be a disappointment . . .

She grimaced.

“Anything wrong?” Selden asked.

“Oh no,” she said. “Everything’s fine.”

“Not worried about your kids?” he said. The ride up to his floor felt interminable. It was these old elevators—they took forever.

“I’m always worried,” she said. “But they’re okay. Shane doesn’t bring them back until five.” Now she’d done it, she thought, taking a step away from him. She’d practically announced that she had the next four hours to have sex with him.

“What does Shane do with them all day?” Selden asked.