Katwalk

by Maria Murnane

  “I don’t think that’s her. She’s not that tall, right?” Reid said.

  “I think it is,” Brittany said. “I always hated her.”

  Reid turned back to face the bar, then pointed at the full glass in Katrina’s hand and smiled. “Hey, look at that—Snow White’s finally on her second drink.”

  Katrina, her throat still stinging, managed a smile in return. “Surprise.” She averted her eyes and tried to straighten the coasters with her free hand, although it suddenly wasn’t as easy to arrange the little stack as before. She stared at the slightly lopsided pile for a moment, then looked back at Reid. “Do you live in Tribeca too? Brittany said she lives just a few blocks from here.” She was determined to participate in the conversation and not just observe it, which was what she would normally do in this situation. Not that she’d ever found herself in a situation quite like this before.

  Brittany turned around. “I said what?”

  “You said you live just a few blocks from here, right?” Katrina said. The words came out a bit thick, and much more deliberately than she’d intended. She also hadn’t meant to repeat herself verbatim, but she couldn’t help it. She wondered if Brittany and Reid could tell how much one margarita had affected her. She hoped not.

  Brittany nodded. “I did say that.”

  “So, um, do you live in Tribeca too?” Katrina asked Reid again.

  “I’m in the West Village.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “A little farther north than Brittany’s loft, but still not too far from here. I could walk home, but I’m too lazy, so I’ll cab it.”

  “Who has the energy?” Brittany said with a shrug. “I take cabs everywhere.”

  Katrina wondered if either of them ever took the subway. She doubted it. “What does Tribeca stand for?” she asked.

  “Triangle below Canal Street,” Brittany and Reid said in unison.

  Katrina shifted on her stool. “Got it. From what little I’ve seen, this part of town seems less rowdy than the East Village—a bit cleaner, more grown-up. I like it.” What she really meant was that it looked more expensive, but she wasn’t sure how couth pointing that out would be.

  Reid took a gulp of his drink and set it on the bar. “Is that where you’re staying? The East Village?”

  Katrina smiled at him, finally beginning to relax. “Actually, I’ve already learned that the appropriate answer to that question depends on the demographic asking it. So since that demographic is you, I’ll say Gramercy.”

  “Say what?” He looked confused.

  Brittany elbowed him gently. “Her prepubescent neighbor thinks living in the East Village is cool, but I’ve already explained the migration pattern to her.”

  “Ah, the East Village migration pattern. So true, so true. That hood is for postcollege kids looking to dance on bars. Me no do that anymore.”

  “Unless your wife’s out of town, of course,” Brittany said.

  Katrina looked at her and wondered if she was kidding.

  Reid tossed back the rest of his drink and held his thumb and pinkie up to his ear and mouth to indicate a phone. “Speaking of the wife, will you ladies excuse me for a minute? I need to make a quick call.”

  “Of course,” Brittany said. “Go do what you gotta do.”

  He set his empty glass on the bar. “Be back in a flash. Will you order me another?”

  “Consider it done,” Brittany said.

  “Thanks. You’re a peach.” He turned and rapidly disappeared into the crowd.

  As soon as he was gone, Brittany shook her head. “Poor guy is miserable.”

  Katrina gave her a confused look. “He is?” He’d certainly seemed happy to her.

  “Miserable.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s married to a bitch.”

  Katrina felt her eyes get big. “Really?”

  “Major bitch. Super frosty.”

  “You’ve met her?”

  “Once, but that was enough. I steer clear now. It’s not worth engaging.”

  “If she’s so awful, why did he marry her?”

  Brittany shrugged. “Because that’s what men here do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, they marry bitches, or at least the pretty ones who come from money.”

  “They do?”

  “Yep.”

  “All of them?”

  “A lot of them.”

  “Oh.” Katrina exhaled. “That’s a bummer.” She was too insecure to even imagine being a bitch.

  “I see it a lot with bankers in particular. Once they turn thirty, they all feel the need to find some trophy wife, usually from a wealthy family, and almost always with a mean streak. It’s like they need to prove something to the world.”

  “What are they proving?”

  “What else? That they’re men.”

  “Oh.” Despite her momentary surge in confidence, Katrina felt her naïveté bubbling to the surface again. She had no idea how marrying an ice queen could prove someone’s manliness.

  “Sometimes it works out, but from what I’ve seen, usually it’s downhill after the fancy wedding, because how can you top that whole princess-for-a-day thing? It’s hardly my problem though, so I don’t let it bother me.”

  Reid returned with a grin and poked his head back into the conversation. “You don’t let what bother you?”

  Brittany waved a hand in front of her. “All the unwanted attention I get from men who don’t interest me sexually, present company included.”

  “Ouch.” Reid pretended to stab himself in the heart.

  Katrina blushed. Brittany was too much.

  Reid stood up straight and smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt. “Okay, I’m recovered from the heart stabbing. You ladies ready for another round?”

  “I’d love a glass of water, actually,” Katrina said. She was only about two sips into her second margarita but already knew she wouldn’t be able to drink it without getting a little tipsy. Actually, who was she kidding? She was already a little tipsy, and if she drank another margarita, she would be full-on drunk. She didn’t want Brittany and Reid to see what a lightweight she was, even if she was new in town.

  Brittany stood up and reached for her purse. “I’m going to visit the little girls’ room. I don’t need another drink, but Reid, would you be a love and watch my seat?” She pointed to her stool before disappearing into the crowd.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Reid ordered a glass of water for Katrina and another margarita for himself, then took a seat on the empty stool. Katrina detected the lingering odor of cigarette smoke, as well as a slight five o’clock shadow on his face.

  “When did you roll into town?” His chocolate eyes were warm and curious, and Katrina’s nerves began to jump again.

  The bartender set down their drinks, and Katrina picked up her water right away and took a sip, grateful for an excuse to avert her eyes. “Yesterday,” she said into the glass.

  “Just yesterday? For real? Then that calls for a welcome shot.” He flagged down the bartender again. Kevin was clearly less than thrilled at the addition of a man to the equation, but he maintained a professional demeanor and came back to take Reid’s order.

  Katrina hoped Reid couldn’t see the fear in her eyes. “Did you just say shot?”

  Reid smiled. “Of course. It’s not every day you move to New York, especially for the sole purpose of having an adventure. It’s time to celebrate!”

  Before Katrina could object, he ordered three tequila shots from Kevin, who nodded politely but didn’t smile as he poured the drinks.

  Katrina tensed and looked around the room, hoping Brittany would return soon. As she inspected the crowd, she wished she didn’t feel so uncomfortable. So Reid wanted to buy her a celebratory shot. What was the big dea
l? She knew this was just his way of being friendly—and she wanted to preserve the budding rapport she had with the few people she knew in the city. But she blanched at the prospect of more tequila going down her throat.

  The truth was, she’d never done a shot before.

  Ever.

  Even in college.

  Though she’d graduated with a stellar academic record and an impressive résumé dotted with awards, she hadn’t experienced many of the rites of passage typically associated with being a college student—at least the social ones.

  She’d never dared try anything just for the sake of . . . fun.

  Or adventure.

  Or excitement.

  “So why now?” Reid asked.

  Katrina blinked. “What?”

  “Why New York?”

  Kevin set a saltshaker and a small plate holding three slices of lime next to the three small glasses, then promptly disappeared. “My friend Deb convinced me that I needed a change, and New York is about as different from Mountain View as it gets.”

  He smiled. “Change is good. I could use some of that myself, to be honest.”

  She wasn’t sure what to say to that, but it didn’t matter, because the sound of Brittany’s voice made them both turn their heads. “Reid Hanson, is that your calling card I see sitting on the bar?” She pointed at the shot glasses.

  Reid grinned at her. “You know me so well. We’re doing a welcome round for Kat. And you’re joining us, of course.”

  Brittany joined her hands in a prayer position and slowly shook her head. “I would love to, but alas, I must leave you two crazy kids to carry on this party without me. I have a six o’clock flight in the morning, and I haven’t even packed yet.”

  Katrina checked her watch. It was almost ten o’clock. She wished she had Brittany’s boundless stamina.

  Brittany gestured to Kevin to tell him she was leaving and to pay whatever pittance she owed, but Reid waved her away. “I got it.”

  “You sure? You always pay.”

  “And I always will.”

  “Such a gentleman.” She smiled at him, then gave Katrina a warm hug. “It was so nice catching up with you. My travel schedule is nuts the next few weeks, but I really hope we can get together again before you leave town.”

  “I hope so too,” Katrina said. “It was great to see you.”

  Brittany turned to Reid. “You’ll make sure she gets home safe?”

  “Are you really asking me that?”

  She kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Without saying good-bye to Kevin, she disappeared into the crowd.

  As soon as she was gone, Reid turned to face Katrina. “And then there were two.”

  “Looks like it.” She knew it was awkward to stay there with him, but she couldn’t just get up and leave after he’d ordered the shots, could she?

  Should she?

  She was tempted to bid him a polite good-bye and take a cab home. If she were in Mountain View right now, without question she’d be at home alone, on the couch, watching TV, or maybe reading a book. That is, if she were even awake. She was usually fast asleep by ten thirty.

  The thought startled her.

  Wow. Can a person possibly get any more boring?

  Yes, she could bid him a polite good-bye and head home to the brownstone.

  But what kind of adventure would that be?

  Was that why she’d come to New York? To sit on the couch and channel surf? She could’ve stayed home if she was going to do that, right?

  She could almost hear Deb’s voice in her head, telling her to calm down and stay put.

  Relax, Katrina.

  There’s nothing to be afraid of.

  Take a chance.

  One shot isn’t going to kill you.

  Loosen up for once.

  Have some fun.

  Reid didn’t appear to notice her distraction. Instead, he handed her a shot glass and smiled. “Okay, Snow White. Are you with me?”

  Deb’s voice was right. The old Katrina would go home and watch TV. Wasn’t it time for the new Katrina—for Kat—to chart a new path?

  Her foot tapping against the stool again, she cleared her throat and forced a smile. “And then there were two.”

  Katrina and Reid ended up chatting at the bar for another hour. She was amazed at how well they got along, despite how different their lives were. Then again, it might have been the drinks that got her to open up. At first they’d bantered back and forth about favorite foods and movies, but at some point she found herself candidly explaining how her parents’ expectations that she find a stable job had pushed her into a major—and eventually a career—that had left her feeling unfulfilled.

  And discouraged.

  And lost.

  “So your boss had no idea you were going to quit when you walked into her office?” Reid asked.

  “Not a clue. It was pretty out of character for me, to say the least. I tend to walk in a straight line, if you haven’t noticed.”

  “You must have been really unhappy,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

  Katrina nodded and took a sip of her margarita. “I guess you could say I’m having an early midlife crisis.” She let out a small hiccup. She wasn’t sure where all this forthrightness had come from, but Reid appeared to be really listening to what she had to say.

  “And then you moved here for a couple months, with no plan for what to do after that?”

  She hiccupped again. “Looks like it. To be honest, I still can’t believe I did it. It’s really not like me at all. I’m usually very . . . organized.” She glanced at the stack of tilted coasters on the bar.

  “That took a lot of courage.” He looked genuinely impressed.

  “My parents certainly don’t look at it that way.” She offered a weak laugh. “They told me I was being reckless.”

  “Reckless is good sometimes.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. I bet you got straight A’s in high school. Am I right?”

  Katrina nodded.

  “More of the same in college?”

  She nodded again.

  “I think a lot people do that, especially straight-A high-school students.”

  “Do what?”

  “Put their heads down, study to get a degree, get a degree to get a job, get a job to get a paycheck, get a paycheck to buy a house. Everything’s focused on the next step, and before they know it, they’ve spent all their best years always aiming for the future and never really enjoying the present.”

  Katrina squinted at him. “How do you know so much about life? You seem so, I don’t know . . . so wise.”

  He smiled and put a hand on her head. “And you’re like a baby deer, all doe-eyed and innocent.”

  She hiccupped again. “And a little boring. I wish I were more like my brother.”

  “Trust me, you’re far from boring. You’re reserved, but’s that’s hardly a crime. I do get the feeling you take yourself a bit too seriously though.”

  Katrina frowned. “I know.”

  “I’m not saying that to be mean. It’s just an observation.”

  “It’s okay. I know I can be a little . . . stiff . . . but I’m working on that.” She was surprised at her newfound frankness.

  “Well, you’ve already taken a huge step in that direction by coming here, right?”

  “Thanks.” She smiled and felt—for the first time in a long time—a little . . . proud.

  “In my humble opinion, I think you’re definitely ready for an adventure.”

  “I hope you’re right about that.”

  He held up his drink. “And the more reckless the adventure, the better.”

  After chatting for a while longer, they finally stood up to leave. Katrina steadied herself
against the bar, hoping it wasn’t obvious how buzzed she felt. Reid was clearly a more seasoned drinker and appeared to still be stone-cold sober.

  They walked up the narrow back staircase and out onto the sidewalk, not speaking, the silence comfortable yet also a bit awkward. Reid stopped and looked as if he were going to say something, but then appeared to change his mind. Instead, he turned toward the street to hail Katrina a cab. When he opened the door for her, he looked at her and grinned.

  “Well, Kat from California, this was a rather unexpected pleasure.”

  She smiled back. “I would have to agree.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “What’s your number? I’ll give you a shout if there’s a party or something that can’t be missed.”

  After giving him her number, she ducked into the cab and waved out of the window as the driver pulled away into a sea of uptown-bound cars, taxis, and buses, then leaned back against the seat and exhaled. The relentless energy of Manhattan was unlike anything she’d ever experienced, and after just twenty-four hours here she was already exhausted.

  But thrilled.

  First drinks with her new neighbors and now this unanticipated encounter with Reid barely twenty-four hours later. It was completely out of character for her to chatter away so openly with virtual strangers, but she’d done it, twice. And tonight it hadn’t been just small talk. She’d opened up to Reid in a way she normally did only with Deb—and survived. And she’d had fun. And the amazing thing was, Reid had seemed to enjoy her company. He could have left at any time, but he hadn’t. He’d stayed to talk to her. He’d asked her questions. He wanted to know about her.

  She’d even made him laugh a couple of times. She hardly ever made anyone laugh, not even Deb.

  Katrina smiled to herself.

  It was just one evening with a man she’d probably never see again, but it felt like a major step forward.

  Once back at the apartment, Katrina changed into her pajamas, then headed to the bathroom to perform her nightly routine. When she was done, she sat down in front of her laptop to check her e-mail. Her mother had forwarded the names of two acquaintances she wanted Katrina to contact as part of her job search, along with a suggestion to “act quickly so they know you’re serious and not just gallivanting around New York.”