I spent the morning craving McDonald’s and pretending to work. Most people avoided eye contact, which suited me just fine. It was almost lunch when the post guy came by my desk with a package.
“This just arrived for you, Miss Crawford.” He placed a small, nicely wrapped box on my desk and it made me smile for the first time since last night. Carlos was grinning as well. He must have sent it, what a sweetheart!
Roses are Red
Violets are Blue
Follow the clues
To find me
Your Secret Admirer x
Well, the note inside the box didn’t rhyme, so whoever sent this is probably not a literary genius and definitely not Carlos. I was going to throw it away, but Carlos stopped me.
“What’s the worst that can happen?”
“Umm, I’m met by a serial killer and they find me piece by piece in the Thames?”
“Leave the drama to me, doll.”
At the bottom of the box was a clown. Not only creepy, I also had no idea what it meant.
“Ooh, what’s this all about?” Carlos asked as he peered into the box.
“It’s a creepy clown? And a bad poem.”
“A clown … hmm where do you usually find a clown?” he asked knowingly.
“Ummm, a five-year-old’s birthday party?”
“Or the Circus, possibly Oxford Circus or maybe Piccadilly?” Carlos was entirely too enthusiastic.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” he said innocently. “I just think you need to take a chance on this.”
I guess he was trying to make me feel better and to be honest, I was allowing myself to get a little excited. The thought that this could be from some psycho was pushed out of my mind and replaced with Alex in front of Big Ben after I followed the clues around London, down on one knee admitting he’d made a huge mistake and asking me to marry him. And yes, I did vaguely remember how last night went.
“Piccadilly Circus is near a McDonald’s. Winner.”
There were also two more envelopes in the package. One said “open me at the next location” and the other said “Almost there, open me last.”
I arrived at Piccadilly Circus and … nothing. I didn’t see anyone with a red rose or carrying an “I love you Paige” sign or anything. I opened the second envelope.
Welcome to the circus, Paige! Here is your second clue:
Walk down the street named after a park and see the Man in the Moon.
Your Secret Admirer x
It wasn’t Shakespeare, but I was pretty sure they were talking about Regent Street. As I walked down the street searching for astronomy references and seeing my breath in the air, I almost forgot where I was. If I really squinted it felt like home, except everyone had strange accents and it was super hard to find Fruit Roll Ups. It wasn’t so bad.
I walked all the way down Regent Street to Oxford Circus and didn’t see a single man, or moon, or anything astronomy-related, to be honest. I found someone wearing a tailored red coat with an official cap who seemed to know where they were.
“Excuse me. Is there a man or a moon around here? Or preferably both?”
The official didn’t look at all surprised by my random request and nodded. “Man in the Moon Passage is just there down Regent Street, can’t miss it.”
Well, apparently I had.
I doubled back, carefully examining anything that could be considered a street, passage, walkway, cove etc., and managed to find it tucked away behind some scaffolding. Who calls a street that anyway? I looked around. Still no sign, no balloons, no marching band, nothing to indicate I wasn’t wasting my time or heading towards my own version of a Saw movie. I was alarmingly far away from a McDonald’s and getting stressed out. I opened the last letter.
Walk through the man in the moon, slide down the vine, and meet me in the fancy Oyster Bar.
Your Secret Admirer x
Conveniently this one was a little easier because I was about to give up on this farce. I walked down the Man in Moon Passage, which led to Vine Street, and I continued down until I saw a restaurant called Bentley’s Oyster Bar. It was fancy; I’ll give him that.
I stood outside the bar for a second. What was I doing? Was I that desperate? Then I reminded myself that Philip got laid last night and I drank a bottle of wine while eating a whole Domino’s pizza accompanied only by Ben and Jerry.
I walked in and didn’t see him right away.
“Paige!”
Jason was waiting at the bar for me.
I stopped short and stared at him for a minute. What was he doing here? I thought hard. Did I owe him money? Because I couldn’t think of a logical reason why I would hear from him again after breaking my face and pulling a Carrie all over his bed. I followed him to the table, partly because I was in shock, but mostly because I didn’t want to stand in the doorway like an idiot. As far as I knew I hadn’t been papped today and considering how miserable my life had been in the last twenty-four hours, I’d like to remain anonymous for a little while.
There was a large, dark eggplant-colored box with a ribbon tied around it on the table when I sat down.
“So, Canada, how have you been?”
“Well, my face eventually stopped bleeding and, thankfully, it wasn’t life threatening, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Paige, I am so, so sorry. I don’t know why I freaked out. I’ve wanted to call you every day but thought you’d be really mad at me.”
“I am really mad at you. You kicked me out of your house when I was BLEEDING. FROM. MY. FACE.”
Inside voice, Paige.
“I know. I am such a jerk. I just couldn’t think of a way to make it up to you and I knew that if I just asked you out you’d say no. What did you think of the little treasure hunt?”
He looked really impressed with himself. It was clearly the biggest gesture he’d ever made in his life.
“I wouldn’t quit your day job.” I was being mean, but he really wasn’t the person I was hoping to see. On the other hand, he didn’t seem to be judging me on the whole debacle from last night and I think he was genuinely sorry.
I forced an awkward silence. If this was actually happening, it wasn’t going to be easy for him, that was for sure. Two glasses of champagne arrived at the table.
“What have you been up to?” he asked, but I was pretty sure he was able to read and had an Internet connection.
“The usual. Cured cancer, saved some puppies from a well, and last weekend I ran a marathon to raise money to build a retirement home for models over the age of twenty-five. It really is a fantastic cause.”
Jason laughed and picked up his glass.
“Here’s to saving the poor models.” We clinked glasses. He did get my sense of humor, I’d give him that.
“Well, other than missing your sarcasm, I have been orchestrating this treasure hunt and trying to fit in work. I had to travel to China a few days after I saw you and just got back yesterday.”
Wait a minute. “Jason, how did you know where I worked?”
“The papers said you were working at Fashionista, so I took a chance and hoped the package would get to you. Which reminds me. This is for you.”
He pushed the box over to my side of the table. I hesitated and then untied the ribbon to reveal MULBERRY written in silver leaf.
I lifted the top of the box to find the most beautiful chocolate-brown bag lying inside. It had a classic shape and smelled like expensive leather. It also appeared to be full.
“Look inside.” Jason was grinning from ear to ear.
I lifted the flap and caught my breath. I saw just the corner, but that blue box was unmistakable. I put my hands over my mouth in a vain attempt to hide my smile and lifted the box out of the bag.
“Oh my god! Kraft Dinner? Where did you even find this?” I’d searched everywhere for it. Mac and cheese with hot dogs was one of my last meals at home. I felt my throat get tight and tried to swallow down the inevitable tears.
>
“I filled the bag with things I thought you might miss from Canada. I know when I first moved here, all I wanted was a few small comforts and the longer I went without them, the more homesick I felt.”
I was still pulling things out of the bag. There was another box of KD, a box of Fruit Roll Ups, jeef jerky, a can of A&W Root Beer, and a bag of Tim Hortons coffee. I picked up the coffee and I wasn’t sure I could hold the tears welling up in my eyes anymore. My mom and I used to go for double doubles on Saturday mornings and split a honey-glazed donut.
“How did you even know about this? I thought Timmy’s was just a Canadian thing.”
“I work with a Canadian guy and I asked him if there was one thing he could have right at that moment from your homeland what it would be, and his answer was “a Timmy’s double double.” So, once I figured out that was coffee, I called in some favors.”
A rogue tear escaped. I hadn’t realized how much I missed home until then.
“Thank you,” I choked out.
“So, forgive me? Can we meet up Saturday? I promise I won’t freak out, even if you bust your face during a stripper move again.” He was smiling wide and knew he had me.
“Forgive is a pretty big word. But ya, we can hang out Saturday.” My lunch hour was almost up and I still hadn’t eaten. I might fit in at the office after all. “I’m really sorry, I’ve got to go back to work.”
“That’s cool. I’ll see ya Saturday. Pick you up at your place?”
“Sure.” I picked up my amazing new bag full of even more amazing things and left the restaurant.
I wasn’t nearly as depressed as I’d been when I left the office, so McDonald’s wasn’t on the menu anymore. I picked up a sandwich at Pret and saw London again with new eyes, clouded ever so slightly with memories from home and a glass of champagne. Maybe I could make it here, as long as I had a steady supply of Tim Hortons.
I texted Lucinda when I got back to the office. She was so excited for me and demanded that we meet after work to discuss every detail, but secretly I know she also just wanted to see the bag.
Carlos had been strangely quiet since lunch.
“Well, aren’t you even going to ask me who it was?” I asked.
“No.”
“Why not? You totally won’t even believe me.”
“Yes I will. I helped him pick out the bag.”
“What? How do you know Jason?”
“I don’t. He called here yesterday at lunch and you weren’t around. I decided to pry. He told me what happened and he wanted to do something to make it up to you. I told him you were in desperate need of a decent handbag otherwise you would be fired.”
“That’s not true, is it?”
“Yes, doll, of course it is. So anyway, I sent him to Mulberry and promised him I would convince you to go on the treasure hunt.”
“Well, then I guess I owe you a thank you as well.” I gave him a big hug. I was so happy today turned itself around.
“One question though.” Carlos wasn’t even bothering to hold in his laugh. “Did you really hurt yourself during a stripper move gone awry?”
I took a deep breath. “Yes. But it wasn’t my fault. The walls were made of concrete and the lights were off and it was actually a move I got from this magazine anyway, so you should all be accepting responsibility for it.”
I was embarrassed but couldn’t get angry as I watched Carlos practically giggle himself off his chair. This was obviously something he was going to tell Louis and all of Fashionista would know by tomorrow. Awesome.
Carlos had actually been nice to me today, and if he cared enough about my happiness to make me go on some random treasure hunt, then I should probably buy him a drink. As I was collecting my things to go, I invited him to Sketch that night with Lucinda and I.
Lucinda was already outside of Sketch when I arrived. Sandwiched between two airline offices, Sketch felt like Alice’s Wonderland. A normal set of doors transport you into a world full of art, red lights, and huge rooms. It was fashion week, so the club was full of champagne and girls whose diets consisted only of grape-based foodstuffs. The two paired nicely.
“Hello, Paige, welcome to Sketch. I’ll take you to your table,” said the clipboard girl I’d never seen before. I had no idea a) how the woman knew I was coming and b) that there was a table booked in my name.
“Chicken, I called ahead and told them I was coming with you. It got us a better table and free bubbles all night. If this situation is going to mess with your love life, at the very least enjoy the free drinks.”
Amen, sister.
We were ushered into a large room where all of the tables had white cloths and a short vase of blood-red roses. Our table was in the center of the room, where we could see everyone and conveniently, everyone could see us. The champagne arrived as we sat down and we were clinking glasses before I had time to take off my jacket. I told Lucinda all about the hunt, the so-called treasure at the end, and the worst Valentine’s Day of my life.
She thought for a moment. “You have shit taste in men.”
Cheers, I’ll drink to that.
We were halfway through our second bottle of Veuve when Carlos walked in with Louis and two other men.
“Carlos, this is Lucinda.”
“Nice to meet you, Lucinda. This is my boyfriend Louis, and our friends, Oliver and Jack.”
Oliver was a very tall, skinny, and pale red head. He was holding hands with Jack, a 4’10 muscular black guy. Jack grabbed both of my hands and stretched them out to inspect me.
“Honey, you are gorgeous. If I didn’t fuck men exclusively, I would totally do you.”
“Thank you?” I was pretty sure that was meant as a compliment. Lucinda grabbed the waiter’s attention.
“Four more glasses and another bottle, please.”
We were on our third bottle when I felt brave enough to search for the bathrooms. I got up and Lucinda waved as if she didn’t expect to see me for a while. “Good luck, chicken.”
Lucinda’s comment was strange until I actually got to the bathrooms where her meaning was clarified, but I still had no idea what was happening. I was facing a double set of staircases leading to an open-plan second floor with several white, egg-shaped pods. There was a 50/50 chance that I would go into the wrong-gendered side, which made me nervous until I watched women exit from either side. Guess they were flexible here.
I went up the right staircase. It took several minutes to choose a pod because there wasn’t an obvious way to tell if they were occupied. There was one in the corner that caught my eye and I went to go open the door and was greeted by a guy I thought I recognized and a petite brunette on her knees with her back to me. She turned her head.
“Do you mind?”
I shut the door quickly. Holy shit, was that Stuart? I stood in the area hiding behind another pod, waiting for them to come out, just to make sure I wasn’t go-home drunk, but it was taking forever and I really did have to pee.
The pod was actually very spacious once inside and reminded me of a fancy port-a-potty. It was also very quiet, or it was for a second. Mid-stream I thought I heard some noises. They began to get louder and more monkey-like. I quickly finished my business and got out of the magic pod. As I was washing my hands I noticed nobody else looked like they had just taken a pee in the rainforest. It was probably just my imagination.
I discreetly wandered back to the pod that I thought held Stuart, but the door was ajar and it was empty. The situation could escalate quickly for me so I went to wash my hands and then tell Lucinda and co that we had to leave. But when I got to the mirror, my head was the size of a pea. I was officially drunk, or had taken drugs and totally forgot about it. Probably the first thing, though. I stood on my toes and suddenly my head was huge and my shoulders were the same size as my neck. I continued to bob up and down, morphing my body.
“Can I help you, miss?” I turned around quickly, my fun interrupted by the bathroom attendant standing behind me, judging. But
for real, if you are going to put funhouse mirrors in the bathroom of a place where people have been served copious amounts of alcohol, you’re going to have to expect this kind of behavior, right?
By the time I got back to the table, Lucinda was opening bottle number five or six.
“We thought you’d been eaten by the toilet, chicken!”
“Nope. Walked in on a girl giving a guy who I think was Stuart Smith a blowie and was serenaded by howler monkeys as I peed, but, alas, the toilet did not eat me.”
“Really, Stuart’s here? Did he say anything to you?” asked Oliver.
I glared at him. “Stuart has never said anything to me in his entire life. I doubt he’d even recognize me.”
“No need to get defensive, hun,” Carlos put his hand on my shoulder, “but we should go, just in case.”
Frustrating much, the only good part of having the rest of my life ruined because I was a D-list pseudo-celebrity home wrecker is that I got free stuff, and now even that was being taken away.
“There is too much vagina in here anyway,” slurred Jack. “Let’s go find some men.” He winked at Carlos, who giggled back. Why were these guys so much better at flirting than me?
We stumbled out of Sketch drunk on free champagne, which was somehow a more fun drunk. I was sandwiched between Louis and Lucinda, our arms hooked together like we were Dorothy, The Scarecrow, and The Tin Man. No Cowardly Lions here.
It was past midnight and there were no signs of slowing down. So far my liquid-only diet was fine, but if I was going to make it through round two I was going to need something to eat. I remembered that my gorgeous new bag came with some goodies and fished around for the beef jerky. It was the best thing I had ever tasted. Ever.
Lucinda took a piece. “This is just like Biltong,” she mused. If they had beef jerky in South Africa, it needed to go on my bucket list. I made a mental note to talk about it with Lucinda when we were sober, but that was quickly replaced with Snog, the name of the frozen yogurt place we passed.
The Accidental Socialite Page 7