Love and Chaos: A Brooklyn Girls Novel

by Burgess, Gemma

  “Dipping you!” he exclaims, and I make the involuntary “whoop!” sound that I always do when I’m dipped. I’m such a cliché.

  Then he twirls me again.

  Mid-twirl I glance over to our table and see, through the crowd, Julia and Sam.

  Kissing.

  A split second later, he spins me back into him, but I can hardly see where I’m going and land against his body with a bang.

  Julia and Sam are kissing.

  Julia is kissing my Sam. I mean, my friend Sam. That’s weird. Why is that weird? It’s normal! They were on a date! I quickly try to arrange my face into some kind of happy serenity and keep smiling as Square Nails pings me around the dance floor. He’s getting pretty confident with the dips and turns.

  But my brain is racing. Julia and Sam. Julia … and Sam. All I can see is that image of them kissing, like a snapshot that’s been burned into the back of my eyelids. I feel strange, as if I’ve been punched, or winded, like when you’re a little kid on the monkey bars in the playground and you fall off and land hard on your ass. Yeah, that’s how I feel. Like the breath has been whacked out of me.

  Julia and Sam were kissing.

  By the time the song has ended, I’ve pulled myself together. It’s totally normal to feel weird when your friends kiss. Right? Right. But it’s only a thing if I make it a thing. It’s totally fine for my friends to like each other! They went on a date! What did I expect? I don’t want to be one of those people who won’t share friends, or who gets jealous when their friends start a new relationship. It’s fine. It’s so fine.

  I walk back to our table, smiling as wide as I can, focusing on nothing.

  “Hey!” I say, trying to sound supernormal and happy. “How are you guys? How was dinner? Was it great? That’s great!”

  “Hey, stranger,” says Sam. “You lose your phone or something?”

  I haven’t returned his calls since he asked Julia out. I mean, it’s no big deal, I just had nothing to say. “No, just busy, you know, working.…” I can’t even look him in the eye; instead I pretend to be really interested in the dance floor.

  “Hey, you’re wearing the dress!” Sam says. “The Drakey dress. It looks great!”

  Turning around so I can avoid replying, I notice that Square Nails has followed me to our table. I turn to face him. “Thanks for the dance. You can go now.”

  Looking shocked, he walks away.

  Julia and Sam are laughing.

  “You’re right! She is so goddamn harsh!” exclaims Sam.

  “Told ya,” says Julia. “She goes through men like water.”

  “That sentence doesn’t mean anything,” I say. Since when do Julia and Sam talk about me?

  “We were wondering where you guys were so I texted Maddy, and she told me about her surprise gig,” says Julia. “She’s amazing!”

  “She is,” I agree. I don’t know where to look. If I focus on Julia’s smiley face I feel angry and guilty about feeling angry, and I can’t even look at Sam.

  I think I might cry if I see how happy he is with Julia.

  I guess it’s just because he won’t be my friend now. Now that he’s dating Julia. I mean, we won’t be unfriends or anything … but it won’t be the same.

  And that makes me want to cry even more.

  Thank God for the band. I turn to face them, trying to look serene and tough and normal and conceal the chaos inside me, just as they start playing “Do You Wanna Dance?” by Bobby Freeman.

  “WOO! Madeleine, you ROCK!” screams Julia.

  “Let’s dance!” says Coco. “Me and Ethan, and you and Sam!”

  “Yeah!” shouts Julia.

  “Oh, no…” says Sam. “Angie, help…”

  But I ignore him, and Julia grabs his hand and pulls him after her like a recalcitrant child, followed by Coco and Ethan. They’re quickly swallowed up by a mass of churning couples on the dance floor.

  And here I am. Alone at the table. I wonder again if I can just crawl under it and hide.

  This is why people don’t dance in bars. Because being the only person not on the dance floor makes you feel like a fucking loser.

  I’m out of here.

  I grab my bag and head for the exit without turning back. Sam didn’t even think about the fact that I’d be left all alone at the table when he went off to dance with Julia and Coco and Ethan Wonderslime. Even though Sam and I have been practically inseparable for weeks. What ever happened to bros before hos? Not that Julia is a ho, exactly, but you know what I mean.… Does everyone just dump their friends when they fall in love or what? Fuck!

  Once I’m outside, I angrily light a cigarette and take out my phone. There must be someone I can call, no not Stef, no one like that, but someone to distract me from everything …

  Gabriel.

  The nice guy from Turks. The one with the plane.

  Done.

  I tap out a quick text.

  I think I owe you a dinner for the plane ride. How about a hot dog and a beer?

  CHAPTER 28

  Back at work. The Gap.

  Thegapthegapthegapthegapthegap.

  You wouldn’t think it, in a city the size of New York, but the entire store has literally been vacant since I got here. Midtown Manhattan is not shopping central on a rainy Monday morning. So I’ve been counting the seconds while arranging and folding and generally trying to look busy whenever a manager cruises by.

  I have literally been counting the seconds, that’s not a figure of speech. I count to sixty, and then hold out one finger behind my back. Then I count to sixty again and hold out another finger behind my back. Every time I use up all my fingers, I move location and try to look busy again.

  It’s seems like such a long time since I walked out of Pijiu on Saturday night, and yet nothing has happened. On Sunday morning I got up extra early—6:00 A.M.—and got out of the house, and then had a long, silent breakfast alone down at the New Apollo Diner. Great pancakes, bad coffee.

  I tried to read the Style section of The New York Times, but the words just swam in front of me. So then I stared into space, wondering if Sam had slept over and whether it upset me more to imagine them having sex or to imagine them just kissing and whispering and giggling together in bed, and then getting annoyed with myself for caring when it’s none of my business, and then thanking God that I wasn’t at home to run into him as he walked out of Julia’s room. Because it would be weird. Why? Because it just would, that’s why. My thoughts ran around and around and around. I tried to ignore them, but they chased me.

  Then I took the subway to work and stared into space and felt my blisters throbbing and tried not to think about anything.

  I’m so stupid! Sam and I were always just friends. I know that. I guess I just haven’t had a platonic male friend before, so I don’t know how to handle it. Of course he’s going to date. And Julia has liked him for ages. I need to get a grip. And not think about my twenty-third birthday tomorrow. Bonjour, adulthood.

  I haven’t seen any of the other girls since Saturday night, which has to be a record. Pia texted this morning that she and Aidan commenced some kind of sex marathon after he showed up at the bar, and both took today off work as a “personal day” so they can “try to come up with a solution” (i.e., have more sex). And no one else has been in touch. I guess Coco’s been with Ethan and Madeleine’s been with Heff. And Julia’s clearly been with Sam.

  Whatever. I’m not really feeling that social, anyway. I’m just going to meet up with Gabriel tonight for a hot dog, go to bed early, wake up tomorrow, avoid everyone, and pretend it’s not my birthday. And work at the Gap.

  Argh.

  “Excuse me, blondie!” says a voice, and I turn around. It’s a gorgeous spike-haired guy wearing such skinny jeans that he absolutely has to be gay.

  “How may I be of assistance, sir?”

  “I need help with sizes. We need to get my boyfriend, Adrian, a pair of white jeans for a Euro-trash party, and his budget is forcing us here!
No offense!”

  “None taken. So, what size is Adrian?”

  “I’m a twenty-eight regular!” says a voice. I turn around. It’s the little hipster waiter from Rock Dog, who spilled lingonberry juice all over me!

  “Don’t I know you?” Adrian frowns, cocking his head to one side.

  “Rock Dog!” I say. “Lingonberry juice!”

  “Oh my Lord!” Adrian looks like he’s never been so happy to see anyone in his entire life, and quickly introduces me to his boyfriend, Edward. “This is the girl! The girl who gave me that amazing tip on my first day! Wow, honey, you shouldn’t be giving out tips like that if you work here.”

  “I kinda fell on hard times just after that.”

  “Ugh, retail is such hell,” says Edward sympathetically. “I worked at Urban Outfitters when I first moved to New York, and it was the longest three months of my life. I nearly got fat because the only joy in my life was Dunkin’ Donuts. I am not even kidding.”

  “Okay, so how about these?” asks Adrian, holding up some white jeans that will be six sizes too big for him.

  I look over. “They’re good, but I’d recommend trying these and these, too. You never know the perfect fit till you’re in it, you know?”

  “That is totally my motto in life,” deadpans Edward, and Adrian cracks up.

  “Okay, boys, come with me.…”

  Half an hour later, they’re both overjoyed. Adrian found four pairs of jeans that fit him perfectly, and Edward got jealous and started shopping, too, and has two pairs of pants and three blazers.

  “It’s been so much fun helping you guys,” I say.

  “I never knew I’d love it here so much!” says Edward joyfully. “The fit is totally amazing!”

  “So much for coming to the Gap to save money,” says Adrian, combing worriedly through the price tags.

  “Listen,” I say, lowering my voice, “I can get you fifty-percent off if you just hang around twenty minutes. It’s coming up on my break, so I’ll buy this stuff for you with my employee discount and meet you at the deli on the corner. Sound good?”

  “Oh, honey, is that allowed?” Adrian makes an anguished face.

  “He’s so naive! Of course it is,” hisses Edward. “We did it all the time at Urban Outfitters!”

  “This feels wrong.…” says Adrian.

  “No! It’s perfect! Angie, honeybun, we’ll see you at the deli on the corner in half an hour, okay?”

  They head off, and I try to look busy until my break. Then I grab their clothes, head to the register, and flash my employee card.

  That dickface Derek is behind the counter.

  “This is for you?”

  “Affirmative,” I say.

  “Men’s clothes.”

  “Yep. I’m going to customize them. Make a fabulous long patchwork denim skirt. It’ll be sister wife meets Amish wife. A sort of Utah-Pennsylvania hybrid.” I give him my smarmiest grin.

  He remains uncharmed. “I don’t believe you. I think you’re buying this with your employee discount and selling it for a personal profit to those two men who were in here before.” He pauses dramatically. “You’re stealing from the Gap.”

  “What?! I am not!” I’m genuinely shocked. I mean, yeah, I’m buying this stuff for someone else using my employee discount, but I wouldn’t even think about charging them and making money off it. I’m just doing them a favor! I’m bending the rules, not breaking them! “I’m not stealing! I swear to God! I’m not!”

  Dickface Derek smiles, revealing very yellow teeth. “I think you are. I’ve called Shania.”

  A moment later, Shania, my manager, walks over, flanked by two security guards.

  I decide the best defense is offense. “This is outrageous! How dare you suggest I would sell these for a personal profit! I wouldn’t do that! How could you accuse me of that?”

  She narrows her eyes. “We’ve had complaints about you from customers, so security has been keeping an eye on you. We were willing to overlook this the other day with your blond friend, but you were clearly cavorting with those two men today.”

  She must mean Coco. And the complaints could only have come from Stef. Or his bitchy girlfriend, Blythe.

  But cavorting? Sheesh.

  “Shania, I promise,” I say, looking her right in the eye. “I swear I wasn’t going to sell them for a profit. I was just, I was trying to help them out—”

  “By abusing your employee privileges,” she interrupts, with an evil little smile. “Angie, I’m going to have to let you go. Employee discount abuse is illegal. It’s theft. You’re a thief. I could have you arrested.”

  “I am not!” I respond angrily, and they all just stare at me. Judging me. Ready—no, wanting—to believe the worst.

  And that’s the moment I snap.

  “I did nothing wrong! I didn’t! I swear! Fucking hell! I wasn’t stealing! What the fuck is with the universe? When the fuck am I gonna get a break? THIS IS BULLSHIT!”

  CHAPTER 29

  A few minutes later, I’m escorted off the premises.

  I go straight to the deli to meet the guys, trying not to weep with shock and shame. I fight the tears back, and they all ball up in a lump in my throat. Ah, unshed tears. I wish I knew how to quit you. And of course it’s freezing cold, windy, and raining, which just increases my misery. The media has been talking about a superstorm all week, but ever since Hurricane Sandy, they like to freak out about the weather. A little rain does not equal a fucking hurricane, you know?

  Edward and Adrian are waiting for me.

  “Those bastards,” says Edward. “I’m totally boycotting them now. And I hate their ads.”

  “I am so sorry,” Adrian keeps saying. “This is all my fault. I’m, like, your bad luck charm.”

  “No, no, you’re not,” I say, my voice unnaturally high, the lump in my throat aching. “I hated working there anyway. I really did. But I just … I need money.” To try to fake the toughness I don’t feel inside, I take a cigarette out of the pack and prop it in my mouth. The perfect accessory to a bad mood. “I’m so fucked.”

  “Angie!” Adrian claps his hands to get my attention. “First, come work at Rock Dog with me. Screw Gap! Rock Dog is totally fun, you can eat all day for free, and you could still job-hunt for something in fashion. They always let me have time off for auditions.”

  “You’re an actor?”

  “You think I’d waste a face this pretty on anything else? And second, I bet Edward can help you network. He’s a floral event designer for the biggest names in fashion! You know Donna Karan? Diane von Furstenberg? Candie Stokes?”

  I look up. “That bitch?”

  Edward cackles. “She is such a bitch! But she spends so much on flowers, it’s almost sinful. I’m, like, best friends with all her assistants now. They fucking hate her.”

  “She was so mean to me.” I tell them about the day I talked to her in Starbucks and realized, to her, I was nothing, nobody.

  My throat-lump dissolves into tears again. That feels like so long ago, and I still don’t have a job. I’ll never get a job. I really won’t. I look down, blinking hard to get the tears to go away.

  “Well, good for you for trying, girl!” says Adrian. “Now, I have a piece of advice for you.” He takes a deep breath. “Never cry over anything that won’t cry over you.”

  I smile, remembering that day, the bombshell Annabel dropped, everything that happened afterward.… God, that feels like so long ago. That was the moment that my life began spiraling out of control.

  Oh, let’s face it. It’s never been in control.

  “I know,” I say eventually. “I‘m just so tired of trying and failing. I’ll never get a job in fashion. Never. I’m … I’m nothing.”

  “You are never nothing!” Adrian grabs both my hands. “Never, never say that! I’m deeply psychic, and I can tell that you’re very kind and honest and loyal and talented. Your future is bright, okay? You just need to hang on. Just hang on, keep trying, and ever
ything will be okay.”

  I really do start crying at this, but quickly pull myself together. Jeez, I hardly know these guys, but I can’t help it. I feel like I’ve been so close to crying for days, like I’m a cup full of tears and this was just the little prod I needed to tip over.…

  “Sorry,” I say, wiping my face. “I’m such a loser. I can’t do anything right.”

  “You are not. Just one break, that’s all you need,” adds Edward.

  “I’ve been here since last summer!” I exclaim. “And I don’t want my life to be like this anymore. I’ve made too many mistakes here.… I want to start over.”

  They look at each other and sigh.

  “You can never start over,” says Edward.

  “Never,” agrees Adrian. “No matter where you are, your problems follow you, so you may as well deal with them. Take it from a man who spent the first five years of his twenties running from city to city, looking for the meaning of life in empty hookups. God, I was such a little slut.”

  “Plus ça change,” says Edward, raising his eyes to the ceiling.

  “My tip? Hang on to your friends,” says Adrian dramatically. “The only thing that will give your life meaning is the people around you. Create a circle of support that will keep you afloat when you feel like you might drown. A life raft. That’s what your friends are. A life raft.”

  “And remember, you may feel like no one will give you a chance right now, but your dream job is out there, so keep trying,” says Edward. “When you’re intellectually and creatively stimulated by your work, the world is a different place. You feel valued. And valuable. Not just in terms of money, but in terms of what you’re contributing to the universe.”

  “Oh my God! Oscar speech! Goose bumps!” says Adrian.

  I nod slowly. Everything he says makes sense. But I don’t know if I can keep trying.

  Somehow, Adrian and Edward know I don’t want to talk about it anymore, and they start chatting about accessories for the Euro-trash party. (Loafers with snaffle-bits and fake tans.) I’m numb as their conversation washes over me.

  I was just fired.

  From the Gap.