A Girl's Best Friend
While he was busy I shamelessly stared around his apartment. So this was where he lived. This was where he had spent the last five months without me. The living room opened out into a tiny kitchenette, with a butcher’s block in the middle, well-used stainless steel pots and pans hanging from a rig attached to the ceiling and a deep, white enamel sink full of dishes by a window.
The rest of the place was a study in careless perfection. Handwritten notes and recipes were stuck to the fridge with conspicuously tacky tourist magnets, and the kitchen walls were covered in unframed Polaroids. Other than the books, the living room walls were bare of decoration and the furniture was limited to the sofa, the armchair and a small coffee table that looked like it was made of concrete cinder blocks.
The heavy dining table where I had sat myself was pushed up against a big open window that let in the sounds of the city to soundtrack our evening. Even though the outside temperate was dropping fast, the apartment was sultry, a heat haze diffusing the air above an old metal radiator in the corner of the room. Predictably, there was no Christmas tree or fun decorations but he did have a few cards propped up on one of the bookshelves and I wondered who they were from. A small carry-on suitcase sat beside the door.
‘Going somewhere nice?’ I asked.
He shook his head and pulled a face. ‘My mum’s,’ he replied. ‘I’m flying back to London tomorrow.’
I nodded, knowing full well where he was going. I had just wanted to know whether or not he would tell me the truth.
He grabbed a bottle of whisky from the top of his huge fridge, gave himself a generous pour, and then sat down across the table, sliding my glass of water towards me before taking a long drink.
Propping his feet up on the empty third chair at the table and unbuttoning the cuffs of his white shirt, Nick methodically folded each sleeve three times and then pushed them up towards his elbows, revealing strong, tanned forearms. He clearly hadn’t spent the last five months in New York – his arms were freckled and brown and the creases around his eyes revealed tiny white tiger stripes when he sipped his drink and stopped smiling. Disappointingly, the red glow of my slap was already fading away into nothing. I really did need to start working out.
‘So,’ he said, slowly. ‘What do you want me to say?’
‘I’d love an answer my question,’ I said, my shoulders tensing as I spoke. I could still feel the imprint of his thumbs on my shoulder blades. I wondered if there would be marks. He was much stronger than me. ‘Why didn’t you call me?’
Nick picked up a box of matches from the table and rubbed his thumb against the striking edge.
‘Why do you think I should I have called you?’ he asked, pulling out a match, lighting it and immediately blowing it out. ‘Why is it a “should” situation?’
‘I don’t think you should have,’ I replied as he lit another match, wishing I had something flammable to keep my hands busy. ‘But you were the one who ended this. With a note, Nick. You didn’t even have the decency to say it to my face. Why on Earth should I have called you?’
‘I thought you weren’t into games,’ he said, that same annoyed look on his face as his jaw tensed. I knew that look, he was almost angry. ‘Why are you here?’
‘No, really, why do you seem to think I should I have called you?’ I asked again, determined to get my answers. ‘Is your ego really that out of control that you were just expecting me to run after you and beg you to change your mind?’
‘Isn’t that what you’re doing now?’ Nick replied and I almost threw my water in his face. What a dick. He leaned back in his chair and raked a hand through his grey-blond hair. ‘Anyway, that isn’t how this game goes. You ask a question, then I ask a question.’
I was starting to wish I’d asked for a whisky.
‘Fine,’ I said, giving up and throwing myself back against my chair. ‘You are the professional question asker, after all.’
For a second, I saw a smile on his face but it disappeared just as soon as I had seen it, like a shooting star or Michael Fassbender’s penis in that sex addict movie.
‘Why did you ring the doorbell and then leave last night?’ he asked.
Right away, I felt my skin burn bright red. It was more than a little bit unfortunate that so much of it was on show.
‘I didn’t want to interrupt you and your guest,’ I said. ‘Why weren’t you answering your own buzzer?’
‘Had my hands full.’ He swirled his whisky before taking a tiny sip, pleased with his answer. ‘Me again. Who did your hair tonight? It looks nice.’
‘No one you know,’ I countered. ‘Is the woman who answered your girlfriend?’
‘No,’ he replied, taking his tie off then holding it in the air and letting it fold over itself onto the table. He picked it up and did it again. ‘She’s not my girlfriend.’
Oh dear God, I thought, closing my eyes and trying not to vomit. They were married. They had three kids. He had written her name into that bit in the back of his passport.
‘She’s my neighbour. Now, about your hair?’
‘Seriously?’
He nodded and raised his glass.
‘My friend Jenny did it’ I replied. ‘My question: why are you being such an infuriating dickhead?’
‘Pass,’ he said. ‘My turn. Why don’t you have a coat? It’s freezing outside.’
‘Stop asking stupid questions,’ I said, flustered. ‘You didn’t tell me we could pass.’
‘You didn’t ask,’ Nick said. ‘How was the presentation?’
‘Pass.’ I was trying very hard to retain my composure when all I wanted to do was slap him in his smug face. ‘I didn’t come here to talk about the presentation, Nick. You could have gone, you were invited.’
‘I was,’ he replied. ‘And honestly, I really don’t know why you’re here but this is the kind of thing that made me write that note. I can’t believe you’re sat there with that look on your face, after everything.’
‘I don’t know why you’re so angry at me,’ I said, sinking my water and standing to leave. ‘But I don’t like this, Nick. You’re being a complete arsehole. Maybe I dodged a bullet. Maybe you were right and this was a horrible idea in the first place.’
‘Tell me why you came,’ he insisted, rising to his feet to meet me, eye to eye.
‘Tell me why you’re so mad at me?’ I replied.
I stared at him, my brown eyes locked with his stormy grey and he didn’t say a word.
‘Ok, I’m done,’ I said, grabbing his whisky and taking a sip. Bleurgh. ‘It always feels like a test with you, Nick, only I don’t know how to pass. I told you I loved you and you walked away. Now I’m walking away. I’m done.’
He was on me before I could even stand to leave.
Yanking me to my feet, Nick grabbed the glass out of my hand and threw it down, not even pausing to look when I felt it shatter on the ground around our feet. His hands circled my waist and picked me up off the floor, dropping me on the table. I winced at my already bruised coccyx but nothing mattered. Frustrated, angry, and confused, I felt my breath coming hard and fast as I took hold of his collar and pulled him towards me, pressing my mouth against his as the whisky on his breath burned the cuts on my lips, closing my eyes and giving in as he pushed up the heavy skirts of my dress, hands running up and down my legs as I curled them around his waist and he lifted me clear off the table and carried me to the sofa. He was hot and hard and heavy and my hands found the familiar muscles in his back, moving under his skin as I tore at his shirt. I needed to feel his skin on me, just him and me and nothing else. All that was left were hands and lips and warm breath and whisky.
‘Holy shit, my eyes!’
It took me a moment to remember where I was – my brain had turned itself off when my back felt leather – but it soon remembered itself as Nick scrambled upright, kneeing me in the crotch as he went.
‘Susan!’ He stood beside the sofa, one shoe on, one shoe off, while a petite, dark-haired woman about Ni
ck’s age stood with her hand on the front door handle, a key in the lock. The look on her face suggested she was annoyed but not in the slightest bit surprised.
‘I left my glasses here last night,’ she said, pulling out the key and kicking the door closed behind her before she disappeared down the hallway, out of sight. ‘I’ll go get them and then you can get back to whatever this is.’
I recognized her voice at once. It was the woman who had answered the intercom.
Nick looked down at me, speechless, as I pulled at my dress, making sure my boobs were securely tucked away.
‘Tess, this is Susan, my neighbour,’ he explained quickly. ‘She lives downstairs.’
‘This is Tess?’ Susan called from the bathroom. ‘The Tess? Man, have I heard a lot about you.’
She re-emerged with a patronizing smile and a bright purple glasses case.
‘Susan, don’t,’ Nick pressed at the front of his jeans, high colour in his cheeks. ‘Please.’
‘You have?’ I asked.
She had heard about me? Heard what about me?
‘Wow, you are not what I imagined at all.’ She crossed the room, holding out her hand. ‘I’d say it’s nice to meet you but, you know, it is kinda awkward.’
‘Tess.’ I stood up, shaky on my legs, and took her hand. ‘Tess Brookes. And yes, completely understand.’
‘I gotta say, I’m surprised to see you here,’ she said, hands on her hips as she took in the scene. ‘And Nick, she does not look like a psycho bitch at all.’
‘That’s nice to hear, thanks,’ I said, straightening my hair.
‘Oh yeah,’ Susan said, walking back to the door. ‘So, I’m gonna go. Leave you two kids alone.’
‘Susan, don’t be weird,’ Nick said again, resignation in his voice. ‘We’re mates, Tess, that’s all.’
I looked back and forth between the two of them, wanting to believe Nick but not sure that I could.
‘It’s true, I’m just his dumbass neighbour who should have realized that was all I would ever be a long time ago,’ she said, holding her front door key in the air. I wasn’t sure whether she was a bit pissed or just always this dramatic. Either way, I wanted to hear more about this psycho bitch business. ‘So, you’re gonna need to find someone else to water your plants and take in your mail and listen to you whine and drink with you till you pass out.’
There was an unreadable expression on Nick’s face as he turned back to me.
‘I’m just gonna give this to the homeless dudes who live in the park,’ she said, pocketing his key. ‘Maybe one of those guys can house-sit for you in future?’
‘Christ,’ Nick looked to the ceiling. ‘Will you bloody well calm down?’
‘Bye, guys. Happy holidays!’ Susan called as she closed the door much too carefully and without a sound.
‘She seems nice,’ I said cheerfully. ‘Why have you got to be such an arsehole to everyone?’
A shrill ringing sound came from my bag and I saw the screen of my phone light up inside the sequined fabric.
‘It’s hardly my fault if she’s got a crush on me, is it?’ he said, exasperated, reaching out as I picked my bag up from the floor. ‘We aren’t together. She’s my neighbour, we’re friends. She does stuff for me when I’m away; she must have got the wrong idea.’
‘You can be such a knob,’ I said, as mad at myself as I was with him. I grabbed my bag and saw Amy’s name light up the screen just before it went dark. Bugger, I had to get back to her. I hadn’t charged the bloody thing all day and now the battery was nearly dead. ‘My five minutes were up a long time ago. I’ve got somewhere to be.’
‘Wait.’ Nick’s voice was urgent and low but he didn’t move. ‘Please. I don’t want you to go.’
‘You’ve had such a long time to talk to me and now you’re going to have to wait,’ I said, flushed and confused, desperate to leave the apartment and dying to stay. There was too much to process and I knew if I stayed where I was, things would only get messier than they already were. ‘Merry Christmas, Nick. I’m sorry, but someone else actually needs me right now. When you’re ready to talk like a grown-up, let me know.’
Closing the door with a slam, I ambled down the stairs and out onto the street, unwelcome tears smearing my make-up. So much for Cinderella, I thought as I held my arm out for a taxi, half hoping Nick would fly through the front door and stop me before I could leave. But he didn’t. Instead, a taxi pulled up across the street and honked for me to jump in. With a shake of my head, I skittered across in my heels, skirts held high in my hands, and opened the door. Pulling my phone out of my bag in the desperate hope it might have a nano-percentage of battery left to call Amy, I stared at Nick’s front door and felt something sink inside me as we drove away.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I stared out of the window of the taxi at a sea of endless red brake lights.
I’d managed to squeeze precisely two texts out of my dying phone battery, saying respectively ‘On way!!’ and ‘Shit traffic!!’ before it died for good. I tapped my foot impatiently in the footwell while my driver honked his horn for the hundredth time. Strangely enough, it had absolutely zero effect on the traffic jam ahead of us. It really wasn’t looking good for getting back by nine thirty.
Kekipi hadn’t been in touch since I left on my crazy, ill-judged Nick mission, and I didn’t need to re-read Amy’s texts to know she was furious. I really did need to talk to Kekipi about how to deal with this. And then I needed to talk to everyone I’d ever met about whether I’d gone completely mad. But I couldn’t. All I could do was sit in the back of that cab, banging my head on the roof every time we hit a pothole and regret the day I ever laid eyes on Nick Miller.
‘I can’t get you any closer to Park,’ the driver announced as I hung up. ‘We’re only a couple of blocks away but it’s a long couple of blocks.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I said with an inner sigh of resignation, scooting to the edge of the leatherette backseat. Goodbye presentation, hello Amy’s wrath. ‘Can you get me to Sixty-Sixth and Fifth?’
‘Sure,’ he replied, making a swift left turn that sent me flying across the back of the seat. ‘No problem, sweetheart.’
On the back seat of the cab I’d found a plastic bag, emblazoned with an I Heart New York logo when I jumped in, and even though I felt terrible about it, I nicked the oversized Fire Department of New York hoodie I found inside and pulled it on over my dress. All the adrenaline that had kept me warm had worn away and all I felt was cold and tired and alone.
‘Here you go,’ the taxi driver said as he pulled up outside Al’s house.
‘Thank you,’ I replied, throwing the last of my dollars at him as I clambered out. I needed to find a bank in the morning – New York was bleeding me dry. I never used cash in England, but here, I couldn’t keep my money in my wallet. How was it possible to spend twenty dollars on coffee and a muffin?
I stood outside Al’s house for a moment, my stomach in knots at the thought of Amy’s texts. And growling because I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. Instead of going inside, I turned and walked quickly in the opposite direction, the train of my dress in hand, following the downtown lights as my breath turned into little puffs of grey-white smoke in front of me, like a really rubbish dragon.
A block away, I saw a little diner, spray snow decorating the windows and sprigs of plastic holly hanging over the door, and I didn’t even look at the menu – whatever was inside smelled delicious. The lights were brighter than my messed-up make-up would have liked, but it looked warm and friendly and as though it was very likely to sell doughnuts, so I ducked in out of the freezing night.
Right at the back, sat a red leatherette booth with his elbows resting on a white formica table, was Al. He looked dashing in a three-piece tuxedo, a long wool coat hung up beside him, and a steaming cup of coffee in his hands.
‘I would never have thought to style the dress that way,’ Al said, holding up the coffee up in salutation as my eyes adjusted to th
e light. ‘You youngsters and your high-low fashion. Very inspirational, I must say.’
‘Hello,’ I said and sat down opposite my friend, smiling at the waitress as she placed a clean cup in front of me. ‘You are just about the last person I expected to see in here. Why aren’t you at the presentation?’
‘I could say quite the same to you,’ Al replied, over the Christmas songs that crackled out of the radio behind the counter. ‘There wasn’t a problem, was there? Tell me the place hasn’t burned to the ground?’
I looked down at the NY Fire Department hoodie and shook my head quickly. ‘Oh no,’ I said, leaning back as the waitress poured me a cup of coffee. ‘Not as far as I know, anyway. I found this in a taxi.’
‘I won’t ask,’ he pulled out the paper napkin that was stuck in his collar and wiped his hands, before brushing the crumbs of something from his beard. ‘Yes. Well, I stopped in for a minute. It all looked as though it was going swimmingly.’
I stared at him in disbelief. ‘You didn’t stay??’
‘She’ll take one of the bacon doughnuts,’ Al told the waitress, hovering at his elbow. ‘Thank you, Marlene.’
‘You’re welcome, Al,’ she replied, turning the edges of her lips upwards in a warm smile. Of course she knew him by name.
‘They sound disgusting but you have to trust me,’ he said, pouring an unquantifiable amount of sugar into his own freshened mug of coffee. ‘If there’s one modern New York habit I do agree with, it’s putting bacon in everything. Really, who knew?’
‘Al, why did you leave the presentation?’ I asked. No wonder Amy was freaking out. ‘Does Amy know you were there?’
‘Amy had everything under control,’ he replied, pushing the sugar towards me. ‘People wanted to see the dresses, not me. Now, tell me the whole story of how you came by that fetching jumper? It’s a little large but it does set off the pailettes.’
‘They absolutely wanted to see you,’ I argued. Poor Amy, she had worked so hard to create something so wonderful and we’d let her down, both of us. ‘And you must have seen, it was incredible. I couldn’t believe I was still in New York, everyone was saying how amazing it was, how they hadn’t seen anything like it before.’