TITLE:
PICKING UP THE PIECES-CHAPTER FOUR
AUTHOR:
CTL (AugieSwan2@AOL.com)
AUTHORS'
NOTES: As a native New Yorker, it gives me a lot of pleasure to be able
to write the next chapter. Although I haven 't been to the city itself
in almost 20 years, some things never change. I do want to thank Bridget
though for filling me in on the new stuff. For the record, 20 North Moore
Street in TriBeCa is a real address...it's where the late John F. Kennedy,
Jr. and his wife, Carolyn Bessett, lived before their deaths. Cindy suggested
it as the perfect address for the ultra-trendy Mary Kathryn Danko to reside.
CHAPTER
FOUR-New York City, May 2001
Mary Kathryn
Danko was practicing on the Steinway piano in her loft apartment. Both
of her roommates were out and the atmosphere was quiet for a change, a
rarity these days. She paused at the keys of the piano as she realized
she was starving. Walking over to the refrigerator, she opened it to stare
at the contents. Cottage cheese and two-day-old pizza were all she could
see that was worth eating. Plopping a slice of pizza onto a paper plate,
she put it in the microwave and heated it. When the microwave dinged, she
removed the hot paper plate and a paper towel and walked over to the couch,
picking up the remote control and turning on the TV before she sat down.
She was
flipping through the channels when the front door opened and Trevor Ashland
walked in. "Shouldn't you be practicing?" He asked as she waved at him.
"I've
been practicing for hours. I'm starving," she said between mouthfuls of
pizza.
"You also
have the most uncouth manners of anyone I've ever met. Didn't your mother
ever tell you not to talk with your mouth full?" He asked as he raised
an eyebrow.
"My mother
told me a lot of things. But do you see her around here anywhere?" She
shot back as he got a bottle of water from the refrigerator.
"My dear,
one of us had better be going to the market pretty soon. All I see in here
is cottage cheese and pizza," he pointed out after he took a quick look
in the refrigerator.
"I think
there's some wilted lettuce in there, too," she threw in as he once again
glared at her.
"Mary
Kathryn, my lovely little piano playing friend, I'm a man! I need real
food! Cottage cheese is not real food! Steak is real food! Okay,
leftover pizza is real food, but you do know where I'm going with this,
don't you?" He asked.
"Yeah,
I know where you're going. The phone is right there. This is New York.
If I remember right, you can get everything delivered," she reminded him.
"If you
set me up with your delicious agent I'll call and have groceries delivered.
I'll even pay for them," he offered magnanimously.
"I told
you, Trevor. Patrick already has a boyfriend. But if he ever gets tired
of Mr. Olympia, I'll tell him that you're interested," she offered.
"I'm going
to take a shower and then I'll get the market to send something up. Make
a list of what you want," he told her in a resigned voice as he headed
for the bathroom.
Mary Kathryn
took the pad from the telephone and went to the kitchen, writing down the
items that they needed like eggs, milk and such. She was looking through
the refrigerator when the door opened once again and Jasmine Crowley waltzed
in. Mary Kathryn grinned as she thought of how different her two roommates
were.
When Mary
Kathryn arrived in New York in 1995, shortly after graduating from high
school, she'd thought her parents were never going to relax enough for
her to be allowed to grow up. While attending Juilliard, she'd lived in
a dorm room with a bunch of other students.
Once she
graduated from Juilliard with honors four years later, she felt ready to
tackle the world. By this time her world at home was falling apart. She'd
been in her second year at school when her sister, Savannah, was killed
in the car accident. She hadn't been a witness to the battle ground her
parent's marriage had become like Michelle and Michael had. She'd heard
through friends and her mother about her father's rages when he'd been
drinking. She was aware of how the breakup of her parent's marriage had
divided everybody, including her sister. Mary Kathryn hadn't seen or spoken
to Michelle in almost two years.
Her father
was another matter. She still loved him because he was her father, but
she hadn't had anything to do with him in over a year. She'd spent Christmas
with her mother and young niece in San Antonio while her brother and Michelle
spent Christmas with Mike in California. She knew her mother was hurting
and she knew she still loved her dad, even though Jill would be the last
to admit it.
After
graduating from Juilliard, her father had wanted her to return to L.A.
Mary Kathryn remembered that conversation like it had just happened yesterday.
"Mary
Kate, why don't you come to L.A.? You can use your degree and teach piano
in the school system," her dad suggested.
Mary
Kathryn stared at him as if he'd suddenly grown another head. "Daddy, I
didn't go to Juilliard so that I could teach school! I'm going to become
somebody," she told her father.
Instead,
she'd gone on auditions for the symphony and the New York Philharmonic.
It was while auditioning for the latter that she met the man who'd become
her agent. He was impressed with the piece she'd chosen to audition with.
"How
long have you been playing?" He asked in an impeccable French accent.
"Most
of my life," she answered, feeling suddenly self-conscious.
"Define
'most of my life, '" he instructed her.
"I
started lessons before I started school. I think I was four," she thought
back before she answered.
"I'm
glad to see that you're at least a serious student of the piano. But you
are wasting your time playing with a large orchestra," he commented.
"Look,
I don't even know you, but you have my credentials in front of you," she
snapped in an affronted voice. " I graduated first in my class at The Juilliard
School. . . ."
"Playing
with the symphony or the Philharmonic is very fine, but what you want to
do is reach a wider audience. I can help you achieve fame and much, much
more," he interrupted. "Here is my card. Call me if you want to do more
than play piano at Tavern on the Green."
The
card read 'Patrick Merlot Agencies' with an address on Fifth Avenue. "Look,
Mr. Merlot, I'm impressed, but I haven't been out of school long enough
to take on an agent," she told him.
"You
are the best young pianist that I have heard in 25 years. Come see me.
I will have you playing concert halls all over the country," he promised
her.
When she
told her parents about Mr. Merlot, her father was skeptical. "Mary Kate,
I've arrested sleazeballs like him that prey on young girls. At least have
him checked out, first," he implored her.
"And if
he's on the up and up, what then?" She asked.
"If you
feel that he's being honest with you, sign on with him. But do me a favor
and hire a lawyer before you sign any contracts," Mike told his daughter.
Mary Kathryn
had done as her father asked and after checking Mr. Merlot's credentials,
she signed on with him.
"But,
you are just a baby," he exclaimed in shock when he'd heard that she was
living in New York by herself.
"Please,
I'm 22 years old," she groaned as she rolled her eyes. "For your information,
I've never been a baby."
He
chuckled. "Now that you have a contract, you must have a better place to
live. Where would you like to live?"
"You're
kidding, right?" She remarked in a sarcastic voice. "Would a Manhattan
high rise be out of the question? Something with a doorman and hot and
cold running servants?"
"When
you are rich and famous in a few years, you will be able to summer in the
Hamptons with your hot and cold running servants. For right now, let's
be realistic. A friend of mine mentioned to me that his daughter is seeking
a roommate. She has an apartment in TriBeCa. You know where this is, c'est
va?" He asked as she shrugged her shoulders. "It's very trendy, very how
you say, artsy. The actor, Robert DeNiro has a restaurant there. Surely
you've heard of him?"
"I
know who Robert DeNiro is. When can I meet this woman?"
"I
will call right now," he picked up the phone, dialed and spoke in rapid
French as someone on the other end picked up the receiver.
That was
how Mary Kathryn came to be introduced to Jasmine Crowley. Her mother was
a harp player with the Philharmonic and good friends with Patrick. Jasmine
was four years older than Mary Kathryn and an interpreter at the United
Nations. Mary Kathryn had always considered herself smart until she met
Jasmine.
"So,
who do you interpret for at the U.N.?" Mary Kathryn asked when Patrick
introduced them.
"It's
more a matter of who don't I interpret for. I speak French, Italian, Russian
and German. I do a lot of traveling, but Trevor will be here. He's my other
roommate," Jasmine informed Mary Kathryn. "But don't worry about him hitting
on you. He's totally gay and very sweet. He works on Broadway."
"Really?
Is he an actor?" Mary Kathryn asked, impressed.
"Well,
he's always hoping. Right now he works wherever they need him. His other
job is waiting tables at Raoul's," she told them.
"How
much would my share of the rent and stuff be?" Mary Kathryn asked as she
looked around the large apartment.
"Rent
is fifteen hundred a month. Utilities vary. You'd have your own bedroom
and we'd share a bathroom. I let Trevor have the other bathroom. We'd also
split groceries, but I'm rarely here so Trevor takes that into consideration.
I don't know if you know it or not, but this apartment building is famous.
John Kennedy, Jr. lives here with his wife," Jasmine bragged.
"Cool,
a celebrity," Mary Kathryn grinned.
"Not
so cool," Jasmine corrected. "The press are always swarming whenever they
know he's around. So, what do you think?" Jasmine pressed.
"I
like it," she admitted as she glanced around. "But I can't move in until
after August first. My lease on my apartment is up then."
"Great,
and I'm sure we're going to be great friends!" Jasmine told her as she
hugged her.
Jasmine
waltzed into the living room and threw herself on the sofa. "I'm exhausted!
I thought you were going to Boston."
"I am.
I'm leaving tonight. How are things at the U.N.?" Mary Kathryn asked.
"Exhausting.
I have to fly to D.C. tonight to attend a reception for some French count
or duke or something. I can never keep their titles straight. Do you want
to share a cab to the airport or is Patrick sending the car for you?" Jasmine
asked as she struggled to sit up.
"I think
Patrick's sending the car, but I'm sure he won't mind if the driver takes
you as well. What airport are you flying out of?" Mary Kathryn questioned.
"JFK.
I can't stand LaGuardia. How are things going with the fireman?" Jasmine
asked with a knowing grin.
"You have
a dirty mind. My schedule is so hectic that I never have time to see him
any more. Patrick promised to keep June and July as free as possible, but
there's still the London concert in August and possibly L.A. in September.
So how's it going with Henri?" Mary Kathryn asked in return.
"Henri
who? He's so old news, my dear," Jasmine sighed as Mary Kathryn grinned.
Keeping Jasmine's love life straight was a never-ending process. Trevor
referred to her boyfriend's as 'The Boys of the Month Club.' Most of the
time it was more like the 'Boy of the Week Club.' Mary Kathryn couldn't
even keep their names straight most of the time.
"Hopefully
I can see Pete after I get back from Boston. I guess I'm lucky that he's
a fireman and his schedule's as crazy as mine is, otherwise he probably
would've dumped me ages ago," Mary Kathryn sympathized.
As
Mary Kathryn had told her mother, she'd met Pete and his friends in a diner
after a really awful party she'd attended with Jasmine at the U.N. Jasmine
had started flirting with one of Pete's friends when Pete walked over to
their table and sat down across from Mary Kathryn.
"I'm
Pete Granado. What's your name?" He asked Mary Kathryn.
"I'm
Jasmine Crowley, this is my roommate, Mary Kathryn Danko," Jasmine introduced
them as Pete looked at her in irritation. "So, Mary Kathryn Danko, what's
your story?" He flirted.
"She's
a concert pianist. . . ." Jasmine started to say when Pete cut her off.
"Is
she mute?" He asked.
Jasmine's
eyes widened in shock and shook her head.
"Then
let her speak." He turned back to Mary Kathryn again. "Do you play at The
Met?"
"No,
I'm a soloist. I play different concert halls around the country," Mary
Kathryn smiled at him. "What about you?"
"I'm
a fireman in midtown," he smiled back at her.
Jasmine
glared at him for a few seconds and then stalked off in a huff.
Pete
was just over six feet tall with a head full of dark hair and dark brown
eyes. In a lot of ways, he reminded her of Willie. They exchanged phone
numbers and started seeing each other every chance they got.
"So,
how long have you been a fireman?" Mary Kathryn asked him over pasta on
their second date.
"Ten
years. I went into the Air Force when I graduated from high school and
I joined the FDNY after that. It's a family thing. My father, two brothers
and three uncles are all firefighters," he boasted.
"Here
in New York?" She asked as he nodded.
"My
father and one of my uncle's are retired, but the others all work for the
city. Are you a native New Yorker?" He asked.
"No,
I was born and raised in Southern California. My father was a police officer
until he retired in 1991. Now he's a private investigator. My mother's
a nurse and she lives in San Antonio with my little brother and my niece,"
Mary Kathryn told him the Reader's Digest version of her life.
"So,
your parent's are divorced?" He guessed.
She
nodded once and started to play with the food on her plate.
"That
must've been rough growing up."
"Oh,
they just divorced recently. It's a long story. So, if you've been a fireman
for ten years, how old does that make you?" She queried, not wanting to
discuss her past.
"I'm
32."
She
groaned and rolled her eyes.
"Is
that a problem?" He asked in surrpise.
"Not
really. My dad was several years older than my mom. Have you ever been
married?" She asked.
"Yeah,
but she couldn't deal with my crazy hours. It makes it rough to keep a
relationship. I'm just glad we didn't have kids. What about you? How old
are you?" He asked as he took a sip of his wine.
"Twenty-two.
You must think I'm an awful baby," she remarked.
"If
you can get around New York on your own, you're not a baby," he assured
her as he put his hand over hers.
She
smiled brilliantly.
"So,
what do you prefer, Mary Kate or Mary Kathryn?"
"Well,
my mother's always called me Mary Kathryn. My father, when I was still
speaking to him, called me Mary Kate. Everybody I know here calls me Mary
Kathryn. I've gotten used to it and it sounds a lot more professional than
'Mary Kate.'"
"Then,
how about we compromise and I call you MK?" He grinned.
"Please
don't call me that," she whispered as all the color drained out of her
face.
"I'm
sorry. I thought it sounded cute," he apologized.
Mary Kathryn
still hadn't told him why she didn't want to be called MK. Every time he
started to bring it up she'd change the subject. Now she wouldn't see him
for three days because she'd be stuck in Boston.
<><><><><>
When Mary
Kathryn walked off the plane and into the terminal at JFK on Monday night,
she was surprised to find Pete standing there. She walked over to him as
he enfolded her into his arms and kissed her. "This is a nice surprise,"
she murmured against his mouth.
"Well,
I called the apartment and bribed Trevor into giving me your flight information.
Let's go get your bag," he suggested as he slipped an arm around her.
"I don't
have a bag. Just my handy-dandy carry-all," she grinned.
"Are you
hungry?" He asked as she nodded. "Then, let's go get something to eat."
He led
her out to his Jeep Cherokee and made sure she was settled in before he
got behind the wheel. "Do you know that you're the only person I know in
this city who drives his own car?" She asked as he pulled up to the toll
booth.
"Well,
I believe in living dangerously," he smiled as he paid the parking fee
and exited the airport. "How was Boston?"
"Great!
I could almost live there if I didn't like living here so much. But the
best part of the Boston concert is that I'm free until the first of August,"
she grinned as she stretched her arms above her head.
"Well,
let's get some Chinese food to celebrate your freedom and eat at your place,"
Pete smiled as he lifted his eyebrows suggestively.
They picked
up a late supper at a place near the apartment which Pete carried as Mary
Kathryn unlocked the front door leading into the building.
"So, did
you know Mr. Kennedy and his wife?" Pete asked as Mary Kathryn got the
door opened and led him into the building.
"No, they
died about two weeks before I moved in. Jasmine said it was pretty rough
around here when they did live here. Reporters were camped out front constantly.
Talk about living your life in a fish bowl," she commented as she unlocked
the multiple locks on the front door of their apartment and ushered him
inside.
Pete looked
around the apartment while Mary Kathryn went into the kitchen to get plates.
"Jasmine sure knows a lot of famous people," he said as he looked at the
framed pictures on the living room wall.
"I don't
think she 'knows' half of them. She just likes the opportunity to get her
picture taken with a celebrity. Let's sit down and eat. I'm starving!"
"So, what
are you going to do during your time off?" He asked as they began to eat.
"I don't
know. I might fly to Texas to see my mother or I might stay here and do
some sightseeing," she said with her mouth full.
"If you
need a tour guide, I'm your man," he grinned. "Why don't you fly to California
to see your father?"
"I don't
see my father and I don't speak to my father," she told him in a voice
that warned that the subject was closed.
"He must
worry about you," Pete ventured carefully, knowing this was a touchy subject
with her..
"He does
and most of the time, he treats me like I'm five. That's why I live here
and he lives there," she snapped as got more Kung Pao chicken from the
container.
Pete sat
looking at her, deep in thought for several minutes. "Family's important,
Mary Kathryn. Without family, you've got nothing," he uttered with certainty.
"I've
got family," she countered in an icy voice and shooting him a filthy look.
"I've got my mother, my little brother, my niece, my godfather and a ton
of my mother's friends. They practically raised me."
"You said
your mother lived in San Antonio with your brother and your niece. Is she
your brother's little girl?" He asked.
"He's
only nine years old," she giggled, not elaborating any further.
He helped
her clean up the kitchen after they finished eating before they both moved
to the sofa and sat down. She couldn't get over how handsome he was. "I
know Jasmine's gone, but what about Trevor?" He asked as he kissed her.
"Trevor's
probably at work and then he'll go out with a bunch of his friends. He
probably won't be home until the wee hours of the morning," she reassured
him breathlessly.
"So, do
you want me to stay the night?" He whispered back in a thick voice as she
nodded.
When Mary
Kathryn woke up the next morning, Pete was lying on his stomach all tangled
up in the sheets. Although it wasn't the first time they'd slept together,
it was the first time they'd made love at her place. It was usually less
complicated for her to stay at his little apartment near the fire station.
She was still watching him when he woke up and rolled over, smiling at
her as she leaned over to kiss him.
"How long
have you been awake?" He asked when they came up for air.
"Not long.
I'm going to go make coffee and check my email," she got out of bed and
pulled her robe on.
When she
stepped out into the living room, Trevor was sitting on the couch reading
The New York Times. "Good morning, Mary Kathryn. Do you by any chance happen
to have a fireman sleeping in your room?"
"What
are you, a spy?" She hissed as she walked to the kitchen.
"No, I
found these sneakers by the sofa last night and they're much too large
for you. So I put two and two together," he grinned, feeling very pleased
with himself.
"Hey,
I'm over the age of consent. It's not like you and Jasmine don't do your
share of entertaining," she groused as she poured herself a cup of coffee.
"Peter,
good morning," Trevor cheerfully announced as Pete came walking out of
the bedroom.
"You're
up bright and early this morning," Pete remarked as Mary Kathryn handed
him a coffee cup.
"You left
your shoes by the sofa," Mary Kathryn told him.
"Well,
as much as I'd like to stand here and get all the dirt about last night
I have to run," Trevor apologized as he got up and walked toward his room.
"Maybe
we should move in together," Pete suddenly said as Mary Kathryn stared
at him.
"Ignore
him. He's just being his usual obnoxious self," Mary Kathryn turned her
face back toward her coffee cup, hoping that Pete would drop the subject.
"I'm serious,
Mary Kathryn. We've been dating exclusively for five months now. I think
we should think about moving in together," he threw her a smile as he began
to warm to his idea.
"We should
talk about this a lot more," she hedged as she looked at him.
"What's
to talk about?" He wanted to know.
"Pete,
I'm on tour 200 nights a year. I live out of a suitcase most of the time.
Besides, there's a lot about me that you don't know," she stopped as she
looked at him again.
"So, enlighten
me," he prompted. "I know you don't want kids. We already had that conversation."
"It's
not that I don't want kids. I can't have kids," she corrected. "I got this
infection when I was 16 and by the time my mom and dad realized how sick
I was, the damage had already been done. Besides, kids wouldn't fit into
my lifestyle," she smiled as she tried to reassure herself as much as him.
"I have to get dressed. I'm supposed to meet Patrick at eleven.."
"I thought
you were off until August first," he reminded her.
"I am,
but he's supposed to have my fall schedule ready," she told him as she
got up and walked into her bedroom.
"Want
a ride?" he offered.
"You don't
have to do that," she said as she walked over to kiss him.
"I know
I don't have to, but I want to. I'll buy you lunch afterwards," he promised.
"This
conversation isn't over, is it?" She asked in a wary voice..
"Not by
a long shot," he vowed as he watched her go to her room.
He took
Mary Kathryn to Patrick's office where she picked up her fall schedule
and then they ,stopped to grab a bite to eat. Mary Kathryn was shaking
her head as she looked over the schedule.
"What's
wrong?" Pete asked.
"My agent
makes more money than God, thanks in part to yours truly, but he's the
cheapest man on the face of the planet. I've told him repeatedly that I'm
perfectly capable of booking my own flights, but NO, he has me flying out
of Newark on September 11th," she paused.
"What's
in Newark?" He asked, making a face.
"A cheaper
flight to San Francisco. He says he did it because it's non-stop. I say
he did it because he's cheap," she grumbled.
<><><><><>
San Antonio,
Texas--May 2001
When Jill
returned home from the airport that afternoon after putting Michael on
a plane to his father, she turned on her computer and checked her email.
She grinned as she opened up an email from her daughter, containing her
fall concert schedule. Jill got the wall calendar and began to write down
the flight numbers and destinations.