Lindsey Kelk 5-Book 'I Heart...' Collection (18 page)

Knowing I had a meeting meant that I didn’t have enough time to go over and over what had happened in my head, but I did manage a quick self-analysis while applying mascara (Razor would have been so proud). Looking myself in the eyes, I tried to smile at the new girl looking back. It wasn’t the clothes or the hair or even the faint tan I’d acquired in the past week, although all of that was new, I just couldn’t remember the last time I’d looked in a mirror before I came to New York. Not caught sight of myself as I walked by, not sorted out my dodgy parting, but really looked myself in the eye. At best I managed a quick sideways glance on my way out of the shower to see how my Weight Watchers torment was coming along, never a happy moment. And now, there was this strange girl staring back at me. A girl who dates two guys at once, writes for the website of a fashion glossy, who lives in New York. Meep.

On the way out of the door, I picked up my mobile and looked at the phone book – Jenny, Erin, The Look, Tyler, and first in the list? Alex. I’d promised I’d call and I really really wanted to, but it felt so weird, ringing a man I wanted to sleep with when I’d just slept with someone else. No matter how many times Jenny told me it wasn’t a big deal, that New York dating came with different rules (The Rules again!) it just felt wrong to me. And to be honest, no matter how far I was putting feminism back, I wanted any man that wanted to sleep with me, to want to sleep only with me. There, it was out there. I was practically a Puritan.

The safest time to get Alex’s answering machine would be early, I reasoned, that sexy deathly pallor didn’t come from early morning jogs along the river. Convincing myself he wouldn’t answer, I sucked it up and dialled. And he answered on the first ring.

‘Y’ello?’ He sounded sleepy and cute.

‘Hi, Alex?’ I panicked, not having anything prepared except a random babbled statement about calling him back later.

‘Yeah?’ So far so he-didn’t-recognize-my-voice.

‘It’s Angela,’ I said, cursing myself for calling. ‘Angela Clark?’

‘Oh, hi.’ He yawned loudly. This plan had not gone well. ‘I wondered when you were going to call.’

‘I said I would,’ I defended myself. It had only been a day. Should I have called by now? Erin had said three days. Bloody Erin. ‘So, you know, Saturday was really fun, thanks.’

‘Uh-huh,’ he replied. ‘Sorry, I just woke up, I’m not really a morning person.’

‘Oh, me neither,’ I said, rushing towards Times Square. ‘But I have a meeting, so I thought I’d call and … sorry. I should have called later.’

‘No, it’s fine,’ he said with another deep yawn. I wondered how he looked first thing. I imagined his hair all stuck over on one side, pillow creases in his cheek. ‘Listen, you want to do something Wednesday? You want to go to MoMA?’

‘Sounds great,’ I said, relieved that I would have two days to sort my head out and wondering what a MoMA was.

‘Cool, meet you outside the main entrance at three?’

‘Perfect, see you then.’ Instead of looking for the Spencer Media building, I found myself guessing what he slept in. Maybe he was wandering around his apartment naked. Not the right chain of thought. Bad Angela.

‘Good, Angela,’ Mary said, pacing around her office clutching my diaries. ‘It’s actually good. It’s pacy, it’s funny – funny-ish – and I’m thinking I’m a reader and I’m kind of interested in these men you’re dating. You’re still seeing both of them?’

‘Yes,’ I said, watching her anxiously and looking out for the coffee I was offered on my way in. ‘I am, but I feeling a bit weird about it. I don’t know, maybe I should just be seeing one of them. Or just slowing it down a little, but with one of them. Or both of them. Or something.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Mary said, finally settling behind her desk. ‘If you want this blog, you keep dating. We need to give them nicknames so that they don’t sue – I’m calling them Wall Street and Brooklyn – they are your story, until something or someone else, comes along.’

‘I suppose,’ I said slowly. I really should have re-read the pieces post-caffeine-high, but I wanted this so badly. ‘I’m seeing Alex on Wednesday but I haven’t made plans with Tyler yet.’

‘Make them.’ Mary buzzed in her secretary and handed me a business card. ‘You’ll email me your column every day by four, keep it detailed on locations, light on the gory details. We want the readers interested in where you’re going on your dates, which guy you’re going to pick, not getting off on your sex life.’

‘OK,’ I nodded eagerly, ‘I can do that.’

‘So you’ll email your piece to me every day by four. I have a meeting with the editorial and marketing team on Thursday, and if your pieces keep coming in at this standard, I’ll be putting them to the team then.’

‘Thanks,’ I replied, completely shell-shocked. ‘I won’t let you down, Mary.’

‘No, you’d better not,’ she said, turning back to her computer. ‘Be here at four on Friday for a catch-up and we’ll talk about posting The Adventures of Angela.’

‘The Adventures of Angela?’ I backed out of the office, smiling with an awkward half wave. ‘See you Friday. Thanks Mary.’

I emerged, blinking, into the sunlight, not really knowing what had just happened, but pretty sure the meeting had gone well. Pausing outside the terrifyingly neon behemoth that was Toys us, it took me a whole minute to work out what the vibrating against my hip was, before I realized that I’d stuck my mobile in my pocket after calling Alex. It had been over a week since I’d received a text message and I’d almost forgotten they existed. Who knew that could happen?

Hi lunch meeting cancelled, have res at Tao. Shame to waste it. Abuse my corporate account with me at 1.00?

It was Tyler.

I had sworn that I would eventually make it to the Empire State Building today, but I had something else to think about other than my tourist agenda now.

My column.

Mary had told me to make plans with Tyler hadn’t she? She was practically forcing me to accept his offer. And I had even heard of Tao, it was supposed to be amazing. With my career and stomach in mind I accepted, by text, whilst trying to keep last night’s marathon firmly out of mind. It wasn’t easy though. As I drifted around midtown, killing time, my mind kept wantonly wandering over the details. His soft hands, his hard body, the warmth of his kisses and how, for those blissful few hours, I didn’t have to be anyone at all, I was just part of the act. No disastrous life back in England, no double-dating concerns in New York, nothing but me and Tyler. Such a welcome relief and very welcome release. A little tiny part of me was also pretty pleased that I’d remembered at least some of what I was doing. It really was just like riding a bike, I smiled to myself. Ooh, I should put that in the column. Or maybe not – no porno details.

By one, I’d managed to spend $500 accidentally on underwear in Saks on Fifth Avenue, egged on by the newly awakened sex goddess in me. Nothing overly saucy, just really beautiful matching bras and ‘briefs’. Couldn’t say knickers in New York, and I couldn’t bring myself to say panties without giggling like a child. I arrived at Tao ten minutes early (get me!) and was directed over to Tyler’s table, where he was tapping away at his BlackBerry. Would I ever beat a man to a date? Maybe lateness was one of my new things, I mused, feeling a post-coital nervousness well up in my chest as we kissed hello. Nothing salacious, a warm, firm kiss square on the lips.

‘Hi,’ he said, pulling my chair out for me. ‘Been shopping?’ he nodded towards my giant bags, and it suddenly occurred to me how it must look. I practically devour him in the street, then turn up for lunch the next day with bags and bags of underwear.

Wow, what a slut.

‘They’re gifts,’ I said.

Wow, what a liar.

‘Oh, OK. Gifts.’ He smiled. ‘How did your meeting go? Are you editor-in-chief yet?’

Grateful that he had changed the subject to something I could talk about without having to imagine him hot, sweaty and naked, I stopped hiding behind my menu and shook my head.

‘It went well,’ I said, ‘she liked the pieces that I’d written and she’s asked me to send her 500 words a day, then go in for another meeting on Friday. It’s not a done deal by a long stretch though. Not a big deal. Really.’

It was a big deal.

‘Are you kidding?’ he said, putting his menu down. ‘That’s fantastic! We’re officially celebrating.’

I smiled.

I liked celebrating.

I liked Tyler.

Soon, I was two glasses into a bottle of Laurent Perrier at one in the afternoon, and several wild gesticulations into my future career plans. ‘I mean eventually,’ I waved my arms around, almost knocking the bottle out of the waiter’s hand. ‘I’d really like to write. Just write, whether it’s magazines or books, whatever. Not necessarily deep and meaningful, but just something that someone can enjoy. Something that they can sit down with for an hour to enjoy, and escape from, I don’t know, whatever it is they need to escape from.’

Tyler nodded, sipping his water. He wasn’t drinking, he had meetings all afternoon and the more tipsy I got, the more startlingly sober he seemed. From the occasional glass of wine with dinner I’d gone to drunk most nights of the week and in the middle of a Monday afternoon startlingly quickly. So far today I’d found out I was a writer, a wanton sex goddess, and apparently a bit of a lush.

‘Once we’re done here, I think we should go do something to really commemorate this occasion,’ he said, ‘in case you don’t remember lunch.’

I looked down at my plate. Still full. My glass. Completely empty.

Tyler picked up the bill and before I knew it, we were leaving the beautiful, opulent restaurant and moving out into town.

‘Where are we going?’ I asked, letting Tyler take my hand and guide me through the busy streets. Midtown was absolutely crazy.

‘Just somewhere,’ he smiled, pulling me up short in front of a large Fifth Avenue store. Oh Lord it was Tiffany. ‘To get something special to commemorate a special occasion.’

He kissed me squarely on the lips reminding me how I was thinking about suggesting we slow it down a bit. But not outside Tiffany, that would just be rude. Tyler pulled me through the doors and straight through to the lifts at the back of the shop. I desperately tried to sober up and absorb every second. A beautiful man with no known credit card limit had brought me to Tiffany’s. This was something to remember. Everything sparkled and glinted at me as we rushed past, diamonds and rubies and sapphires and every other precious gem you could ever imagine, all sparkling in the carefully designed lighting. The lift doors slid together and the diamonds winked goodbye as we began to move upwards. The lift teased me relentlessly, opening on floor after floor of gorgeous jewellery, trinkets and treasures, while we remained inside. I began to think he’d just brought me here to use the toilets, which considering what I’d drunk, wouldn’t have been a bad plan. Eventually, the doors opened on gifts and we strolled out. Tyler seemed to know exactly where he was going, silently smiling and drawing me across the floor. If I hadn’t been so desperate for a) the toilet and b) something wrapped in a little blue box, I would have said he was being irritatingly smug. Plus I couldn’t help but wonder how he knew his way around such a maze-like jewellery store quite so well.

‘Here,’ he said, stopping in front of a display case. Inside were dozens of sterling silver objects, business card holders, letter openers, keyring upon keyring upon keyring and, I finally worked out what he was pointing at, beautiful silver pens. ‘Which one do you like?’

I was so lost for words and overwhelmed by the need to pee, I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t remember a time anyone had done something so thoughtful. Even Mark’s proposal hadn’t been so well considered and he’d (allegedly) been planning it for months. ‘Will you marry me?’ doesn’t have the same ring to it when you’ve just been arguing the toss with a Sevillian pony and trap driver over five Euros.

‘Honestly, you shouldn’t,’ I murmured, clutching at his arm and feeling very feminine all of a sudden. Maybe they put something in the air conditioning to make you more susceptible to romantic gestures, I thought to myself.

‘But I want to,’ he said, pointing the sale girls towards a delicate silver ballpoint pen. ‘And I’m going to.’ The girl nodded and took the pen away.

I looked away, smiling happily. And slightly tipsily. I could really get used to this kind of treatment quite quickly, but before I did, I really really had to talk to him about slowing things down. It wasn’t fair to accept expensive gifts and lavish dinners when I was still feeling guilty about having slept with him. But I didn’t want to offend him.

‘I just need to nip to the ladies’ room,’ I whispered as the sales girl appeared with my beautifully wrapped parcel. Oh, the white ribbon against the stiff eggshell cardboard bag. It made my heart leap right into my mouth.

Tyler nodded and took the gift bag. ‘I’ll wait outside, I have a couple of calls to make.’

The bathroom was every bit as beautiful as I had expected, but I was so desperate, I would have taken a hole in the ground. Oh the relief. Washing my hands, I took a moment to think about the Tyler situation. I didn’t know if it was the pheromones I was convinced Tiffany were pumping into their store or possibly the champagne that was still raging around my system, but it struck me that I was taking the Tyler/Alex thing altogether too seriously. Jenny was right, we were just having fun, Tyler had bought me a pen, not an engagement ring, and Alex and I had only been on one date! There was no need to say anything to Tyler right now except thank you very much. I would have to be crazy to knock back a generous, thoughtful (rich, hot) man like him for no reason. Besides, he had seemed very comfortable in Tiffany’s, maybe he bought a lot of gifts for his friends. It would be rude of me to make a big deal out of it. After all, it was just a pen. My mind made up to ask Tyler out for dinner for Thursday night, I went back downstairs. It would be totally straight forward, I told myself. I would ask him if he would like to go out, and if he were to ask me if I’m seeing anyone else, I’d say yes. We’re just dating, just a notch above friends really. Friends with benefits in fact, I’d read all about that and it seemed fine.