Manhattan Dreaming (25 page)

Libby was like a tourist-Nazi the first forty-eight hours she was in New York, not sleeping at all but guzzling coffee to stay awake and keep on the go. In the first two days we did Macy's, the Chelsea Hotel bar (because Libby was a massive Dylan fan), the Chelsea Market, had dinner in China Town one night and ordered in pizza the other. I was exhausted and already feeling toxic when we sat down to breakfast on Christmas Eve and Libby pulled out her list.

‘Right! Well, today I want to walk the perimeter of Central Park,' she said, looking intently at her map spread out on the kitchen table.

Although I needed the exercise, it was, after all, Christmas Eve and I wanted to put the tree up and take it easy. Plus it was cold and snowing.

‘Are you serious? It's like six kilometres all the way around, or maybe it's six miles. And it's about four degrees, and it's Christmas Eve. Can't we just take it easy today? I don't think you've even had enough sleep. I'm not going to have to deal with you being all shitty by two o'clock this afternoon, am I?'

‘I'm not the one sounding shitty,' she said, still staring at the map.

‘Fine, let's walk around the park then.' Working with Libby and having her planning every minute of my day were two very different things.

We started our walk at the north-east corner of the park. ‘We must be freaking mad,' I said, trying to get a pace up to warm up. ‘We'd NEVER do this back home.'

‘We're in New York, darling, we
must
do this.'

My hands were numb even through my gloves.

After fifteen minutes I saw a corner deli. ‘I'm going in there for a coffee and some food. You can keep walking if you like,' I said. Libby could sense I was almost over it.

‘Okay, I guess we can take a break from the schedule.'

We walked down some iron steps into a little Turkish deli.

‘Welcome to New York,' the owner said, true to the hospitality New Yorkers were famous for. He fussed about what we might want to eat, and what we might prefer to drink with our hot spinach and eggplant dish. I just wanted to sit down and rest my feet and thaw out.

When we were done, Libby got up from the table before I had a chance to get my wallet out.

‘I've got it,' she said, counting out and handing over notes.

‘Did you leave a tip?' I whispered on the way out.

‘Yes, but …'

We walked outside and snowflakes fell gently onto us as we climbed back up the stairs.

‘But what?'

‘I really don't like tipping. I mean, what's all that about?'

‘That was good service, he was a good guy, and tipping is normal here. It's expected.'

‘Oh, I know it's
expected
, and yes he was a nice guy, but we've had so much sugary and insincere service since I got here. I'm just over it.'

‘Lots of people rely on their tips to survive, especially in hospitality.'

‘I know, and that's the problem. I feel like I'm subsidising the American wage system. And it's not like our dollar is strong either. I love New York, I'm excited to be here, and to see you, tidda.' She linked arms with mine. ‘But the tipping scenario is the one thing I hate. In Australia you tip for good service, not just for
being
served.'

I didn't want to admit it, but Libby was right. I had to tip the woman who washed my hair, then the one who cut my hair, and if someone else coloured it I was supposed to tip her too. I'd even seen people chased out of restaurants for not paying the expected twenty per cent tip. It was obscene, but Americans didn't seem to think so.

‘I'm just saying that I think everyone should get paid decent wages and hourly rates and let the consumer choose whether they think the service was worthy of a tip or not. The next tip I'm going to give them is “Get a union”!'

‘Let's do the horse and carriage ride now,' I said, anxious to stop the tipping debate.

‘That's down near Central Park South,' she said, looking at her map. ‘We just keep heading down 5th Avenue, so, at least that's one side of the park done. Good idea, tidda.'

After a brisk hike, we finally sat in a white carriage with maroon velvet seats pulled by black horses.

‘This is really romantic, isn't it, Loz? Have you done this with anyone? Cash Pash Man perhaps?'

‘No, we haven't, but he's very romantic, so I'm sure we will.' I had thought about doing it with Adam, when I first arrived and saw a brochure at the hotel. But sitting there with Libby I realised that Adam probably wouldn't have liked it. He never wanted to do anything romantic.

‘Over there is Central Park Zoo,' our driver pointed out.

‘Oh!' Libby said, like an excited child.

‘Oh no,' I whined back, frozen to the core.

We got out of the carriage and took photos with the driver and the horses and I was just about to seek out a cab when Libby grabbed my arm.

‘Come on, remember when we watched
Madagascar
, you loved it.'

‘It was a movie, Libs. I'm cold.'

‘I know, but you've got six more months here. I don't, so I have to go now.'

I had no argument.

‘This is nothing like the movie
Madagascar
,' I said as we entered the zoo.

‘Well, for a start that movie was an animation, and these are real animals,' Libby said, dragging me by the arm. ‘Don't be such a misery guts.'

‘But look, there's no-one here, because it's freezing. See, even the freaking polar bear is hiding.' I pointed to a huge white bear poking halfway out of the cave.

‘Haha, he's face down with his butt out.'

‘I don't blame him. I feel like doing the same.'

‘What? Lie face down with your arse in the air? Go on, then.' Libby was being facetious.

‘You know what I mean.'

‘Ooh, the penguins are sooo cute, though. I could watch them for hours.'

‘We'll have frostbite by then.'

We walked through the park far more slowly than I wanted to. I was grateful to find a cafe where we sat, ate hotdogs and drank hot chocolate. On a full stomach again we watched the sea lions put on a show for us, and the snow monkey sitting on a rock picking things out of his fur and eating them.

Towards the end of the day we stopped in front of the red panda enclosure. ‘Where are they?' Libby said, disappointed she couldn't see them.

‘They've found somewhere warmer to be, and that's what I'm going to do too. Let's go, the sun's going down.'

I wanted to go to the Australian that night, to see Matt and the gang and get an idea of what might be happening back home in the football world. I hadn't had a chance to check MySpace since Libby arrived, but seeing her had made me think of Adam.

‘I am NOT going to an Australian pub in New York. You know my rules, Loz.'

‘The owner's a mate of mine, and he knows heaps of Kooris back home. I want to give him a Christmas present, please. We can have a drink up Trump Tower first, how's that?'

‘I'm making no promises, Loz, really. I'll take that Trump Tower drink offer, but after that I can't say.' Libs was Libs and I loved her for it.

We both wore red cocktail dresses to look Christmassy and then piled on the coats and scarves. I liked the bar at Trump Tower on 5th Avenue. People were dressed up either from working in town or ready for a night out. The space was more up-market than anything in Chelsea, with plush red velvet high-backed stools and a great cocktail list.

‘See, this is New York, tidda, this is why we're here. These are the memories I need to take home. Cheers.' Libby clinked her glass to mine.

‘You want a photo with your Trump Classic martini?'

‘Not yet, there's some cute men in suits over there, might look a bit touristy if I do that.' She raised her glass to them. ‘I think we should have another.'

‘You do remember it's all free-pour here? One drink is like three of ours.'

‘It's Christmas, Loz, let's be merry.'

‘Let's be merry indeed.'

My phone rang – it was Cash.

‘And hello there,' I said, already feeling merry.

‘Where are you, gorgeous?'

‘At Trump Tower with Libby. We're going to the Australian tonight – I'm a little homesick.'

‘We're not going,' Libby tried to say into the phone before heading to the bar.

‘Libs isn't that keen.'

Cash laughed down the line.

‘Are you going to be there for a while? Should I come and meet you? It's quiet here, Allen can manage without me.'

‘Cash, I'd love to see you but I really need to just hang with Libby tonight if that's all right. I haven't seen her for six months, and she's my bestie, I told you that.' Having said it out loud, I felt bad for being so short-tempered with her earlier that day.

‘I know, it's just I miss you. I've got your Christmas present too. When can I give it to you? Do you know I blew off my own family to see you?'

‘Don't make me feel guilty. I didn't ask you to do that.'

‘I know you didn't, I wanted to. I have to work early on the 26th, so couldn't really leave town anyway.'

I felt guilty even though it wasn't my fault. ‘Why don't you come over tomorrow? Libby and I are cooking lunch. Why don't you join us?'

‘Really?'

‘Really. Now I've got to go. I'll see you tomorrow.' I hung up as Libby came back with a bottle of champagne.

When we were both sufficiently lubricated I suggested it was time to go to another bar.

‘Can we have the bill, please?' Libby asked the barman.

‘We settle the tab, or get the check here, sis.'

‘You've learned a whole new language here, haven't you?'

‘Your tab has already been settled,' the barman said as we both pulled out our credit cards.

‘It can't have been,' I said, adamantly.

He read from a piece of paper. ‘A Mr Cash Brannigan called and said he'd cover whatever you ladies had.'

‘Seems like the Cash man is cashed up. He's a keeper, tidda. You have to bring him home with you.'

‘You know money's never been my motive,' I said. I felt a bit weird about Cash doing that. I'd always liked paying my own way. I was hoping that he hadn't called the Australian as well.

We got in a cab and all I said was ‘38th West, thanks,' so Libby didn't know where we were going. She was busy sending text messages to Australia because it was already Christmas Day at home. To the driver's delight, she sang ‘Start spreading the news …' down the phone to her sister back home.

Only after we walked into the Australian did Libby realise that we had arrived at the pub. Matt saw us straight away and came over.

‘Loz, how are you? Merry Christmas.' He gave me a bear hug.

‘This is my wonderful friend Libby. She's from Canberra also, but originally from Moree.'

‘Ah, the Moree Boomerangs.'

‘You know them?'

‘Yeah, know the Cutmores and the Wrights, sorry' – Matt grabbed his phone – ‘I'll be back. Sit down, I'll send over two Ozmos.'

Libby propped herself on a bar stool. ‘He's deadly, eh?'

‘I told you.'

‘And what's an Ozmo?' she asked.

‘It's an Australian cosmo, of course.'

We propped ourselves up at the bar. Hunter appeared to have been punted.

‘Hey, you sound strange for a New Yorker,' Libby said to the new waiter.

‘That's because I'm from Melbourne.'

‘I'm from Canberra via Moree,' Libby said proudly.

The barman pushed our drinks towards us. ‘From Matt, Merry Christmas.' He stuck straws in the glasses, winked at Libby and walked off.

Libby grabbed me. ‘He is so hot. He's equivalent to about five guys in Canberra. I think I want to kiss him. I want him to kiss my ankles.'

‘Well, you've changed your tune about men, but, good, go for it.'

‘But what about my track record?' She took a long sip of her orange drink. ‘Are you sure he's not gay?'

‘Matt … pst, come here.' Matt walked over to us. ‘Is the new barman gay?' I whispered.

‘No,' he whispered back.

‘Does he have an unhealthy relationship with his mother?' Libby whispered.

‘Highly unlikely, his mother died some years ago,' Matt whispered to Libby.

‘Good.'

‘What?' I was shocked.

‘I mean good he's no Hamlet, not good his mother died. You know what I mean.'

‘Last question, Matt.' Libby leaned in and grabbed Matt's shirt. ‘Is he likely to drag me to New York's equivalent of Fyshwick?'

‘That I can't tell you, but hell, it's New York, might just be fun to find out.'

‘You're right. I'm in New York and what happens on tour stays on tour.'

‘She knows the drill, Loz,' Matt said to me, and then turned to Libby. ‘You can come here any time.'