by Jen Morris
I wander through the Village, crossing over 7th Ave and heading along Charles Street, crunching through the carpet of orange and yellow leaves. They smell sweet and musky in that way that fallen leaves do, and I let out a heavy sigh. I’m loving being in the city, but it’s been two weeks and I’m still sleeping on Cat’s sofa. And while I’m enjoying the cuddles with her tiny pug Stevie, I want my own place. I’m trying, believe me, but it just feels impossible. Every place I’ve looked at is either absurdly expensive or impossible to get because there are so many people looking. It’s a nightmare.
I know writing will make me feel better, but I haven’t been doing it. I wrote one blog post a week ago and that’s it. Between apartment hunting and surviving at work, I just have no inspiration.
I shake my head firmly, deciding that tonight, I’m going to write. Just the thought of that lifts my spirits.
My phone buzzes in my bag and I pull it out to see a missed call from Mum. Guilt nudges me in the chest and I pause on the sidewalk, my finger hovering over the call button. I haven’t spoken to my parents since arriving in the city. I’ve texted them, so they know I’m alive, but I know that if I talk to Mum she’ll ask a million questions—or worse, she’ll remind me what a mistake I’ve made. And given I’m working in a shitty job and still technically homeless, I’m worried I might just end up agreeing with her.
No. I can’t face her right now.
I jam my phone back in my bag and continue, shivering in the early evening air. I’m only wearing my white leggings and tank top under a thin jacket and it’s quite cold. The sky has turned a dark, slate gray, the air cool and thick with the promise of rain. Just as I turn down our street, the sky completely opens upon me, turning the streets to rivers in seconds. My jacket is soaked through, my clothes drenched as I dash along the pavement, dodging people in dripping Halloween costumes. Finally, I reach the building and push the front door open. I can’t wait to get inside, take a long hot shower, and settle down with my laptop.
“Hold the door!” I hear behind me as I duck in out of the rain.
I hold it with one hand, using the other to peel off my soggy jacket. I can feel my clothes sticking to me all over, my hair dripping down the sides of my head.
“Hi, Alex!” I look up to see Henry in a raincoat, giving me a bright smile.
“Hi, Henry.” I return his smile, rummaging in my bag for my keys, trying not to create a puddle in the foyer.
“Dad! This is my friend, Alex.”
A figure steps through the door behind Henry, obscured behind an umbrella, shaking water off onto the doormat. I offer a smile just as the umbrella is lowered, but my brain short-circuits when I see who’s in front of me.
Broad shoulders. Expensive suit. Beard.
Gah, not again!
I grimace, praying he doesn’t recognize me, but when his deep brown eyes collide with mine, his features harden.
“Oh. Hi.”
I should be slinking away but I can’t move, I can’t take my eyes off him. His dark hair is wet and water is dripping down one side of his face, his short beard damp with raindrops. He’s brushing water off his suit jacket impatiently.
Fuck, he’s hot. Was he this good-looking the last time I saw him?
I glance between him and Henry, putting the pieces together. So he’s Henry’s dad, and… he lives in the building? I didn’t see that coming, although it explains why I keep seeing him around the Village.
Unease pinches my gut, and I realize I’m intimidated by him. Maybe it’s the business attire, or because he’s older, or the fact that he could demand money from me at any second. Okay, I did ruin his shirt, but it’s not like I wanted to spill my coffee all over him. He was rushing me, making me flustered. I think back to how impatient he was, how he spoke to the barista like I wasn’t even there. I bet he’s one of those men who has no respect for women, especially if he is a womanizer.
It’s then that I remember what I’m wearing, and I look down at my clothes in horror. My tank top is already low-cut—it has to be, so you don’t see it above the wedding dress—and now the thin white cotton is practically transparent. The black lace of my bra is clear as day, and when I notice my cleavage glistening with rain, I shudder with mortification. Of all the times to run into this guy and I look like I’ve entered a wet T-shirt contest.
“Hi,” I squeak, glancing up again.
“Alex, is it?” He places his umbrella in the stand by the door then turns back, his gaze sweeping over me.
I half nod, half cringe, clutching my jacket to my chest in an attempt to regain some dignity.
He extends a wet hand. “Michael.”
I take it in mine, giving him a meek smile.
“Where are you from, Alex?” Michael asks politely as he waits for Henry to check the mailbox. Every word in that rich, deep American accent slides over my skin like silk and I struggle to find my words.
“She’s from New Zealand, Dad.” Henry turns back to us with a grin. “She moved here because her boyfriend wanted to break up, and—”
“Thanks, Henry,” I say hastily, my face glowing red. I hazard a glance at Michael and there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
“It was Alex who gave me the pizza last week,” Henry explains, wandering over to the stairs.
Michael stiffens. He turns to me as Henry heads up the steps. “Oh. That was you? You didn’t need to do that.”
I shrug. “He was upset and said he hadn’t eaten, so—”
“Yeah, well, I was on my way with dinner.” He rakes a hand through his wet hair, irritation flickering across his features.
I raise my eyebrows, taken aback. “Okay. Sorry.” I’m not sure what else to say. If anything, I thought I had been kind when Henry was obviously upset and alone, but apparently not. “I didn’t mean to interfere, I was just—”
“It doesn’t matter,” he interrupts, his brows drawing together.
“Dad!” Henry calls from up the stairs.
“Anyway,” Michael grumbles. Then without even saying goodbye, he turns and heads up the steps, his expensive shoes squeaking on the wet floor.
I stand in the foyer, dripping and cold, gaping after him.
What the hell was that? One minute he’s being, well, not exactly friendly but at least polite, then the next he’s looking at me like I’d offered his son crack instead of pizza.
I shake my head in disbelief and slide the key into the lock, squelching into the apartment. The sooner I can get out of these soggy clothes and into something warm and dry, the better.
8
“I’ve got a surprise for you!”
Cat wanders into the living room as I’m wringing water from my hair into a towel. I’ve had a lovely hot shower and was just about to sit down with my laptop, but the excited look on Cat’s face tells me I won’t be doing that.
“Okay,” I say warily. “What is it?”
“I made us costumes!” She grins, pulling two hangers out from behind her back.
I stare at the hangers. “You made me a Halloween costume?”
She nods. “I know you’ve been having a hard time with apartment hunting, and work sucks. But it’s your first Halloween in America and I thought we could dress up and go out, have some fun!”
“Oh,” I say, touched. “That’s so sweet.” I wasn’t planning to go out tonight, but after that weird run-in with Michael, I’m not sure I’m in the mood to write. Drinking and dancing, on the other hand, sounds quite appealing.
“This one is yours,” Cat says, passing me a rather small amount of fabric. “It’s Snow White.”
I reach tentatively for the costume and hold it up. There’s a blue bodice with puffy sleeves and a big red bow at the middle of the low-cut neckline. A tiny yellow skirt flares out from the waist. I can see that it’s definitely Snow White themed, but only if she was moonlighting as a stripper.
“And I’m going as the Evil Queen!”
My gaze shifts to the purple and black outfit Cat�
��s holding up.
“What do you think?” she asks, looking at me expectantly.
I glance back down at the costume, unsure what to say. She’s put a lot of work into it, which is very thoughtful, but can I really wear this?
“Try it on!”
I scan my brain for some kind of excuse—for any reason as to why I can’t possibly put this tiny shred of fabric on my body and go out in public—but my mind is blank. And when I look at Cat’s hopeful face, I feel a stab of guilt.
“Okay,” I hear myself saying. I take the costume into the bathroom and wedge myself into it. It’s a bit tight and the skirt is short, but my boobs steal the show as they threaten to spill out. Seriously, where did she get the pattern for this costume? This is not the Snow White I remember from childhood.
“Come out!” Cat calls from the living room.
I take a deep breath and wander out, feeling ludicrous. She has changed into her Queen costume, which is equally revealing.
“Wow!” Cat says, beaming. “You look great.”
“Yours looks good too. But…” I run my eyes over her costume, confused. “These outfits are quite sexy. I thought Halloween was about dressing scary.” Although, given the amount of my flesh that’s exposed in this outfit, maybe it is a bit scary.
“No one dresses scary. Haven’t you seen Mean Girls?”
A laugh escapes me. I have, but I didn’t realize that was real.
“So will you come out? I need Snow White to complete the look.”
I glance down at my costume again, thinking of all the time she spent making this for me. She’s only known me for a couple of weeks, but she’s gone to the trouble of custom-making me a Halloween costume so I can have a fun night out? That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.
“Alright,” I say with a smile. Besides, Halloween in New York could be fun, right? “But I’m going to need a drink.”
We open a bottle of wine while we get ready. I spend extra time on my appearance (since “sexy” is apparently the theme of the evening), curling my short hair into loose waves before putting a red bow in, and borrowing some dark red lipstick from Cat. Instead of my usual comfortable ballet flats, I opt for heels so my bare legs look longer. We’d just come out of winter back home, so my legs are paler than I’d like. But then I guess Snow White isn’t exactly a bronzed goddess, is she?
By the time we’re getting into an Uber to head to the East Village, I’m feeling excited and, dare I admit it, a little sexy.
It’s nice, actually. Work has been awful and I’m stuck sleeping on a friend’s couch, but tonight I can go out with some friends and pretend my life isn’t a total mess. Isn’t that what Halloween is all about, anyway? Dressing up and pretending?
As we push through the crowd at Bounce and find a table, I see that Cat wasn’t wrong about the sexy thing—almost no one is dressed scary. But I find myself feeling self-conscious again. The women in this city are something else, and every time I think I’m looking good, I go out and remember I’m not from this world.
“Thanks for making me a costume,” I say as we slide into the booth. “That was sweet.”
“I nailed it, too. Got your measurements pretty much spot on.”
“Yeah, how’d you do that?”
She takes a sip of her vodka soda, assessing my costume. “I have a good eye for this stuff. I’ve been sewing forever.”
I nod. It’s well-made, with lots of details. I glance down at my cleavage on full display and giggle. “It’s a bit tight, but—”
“It’s supposed to be tight. You look hot.”
My face warms as I sip my wine, and Cat gives me a funny look.
“You know that, right? I’d kill to have curves like yours.”
I straighten, smiling modestly. “Thanks. It’s been kind of a culture shock, coming from a small town to this glamorous city. And, I don’t know, I’ve been feeling a bit bad about myself since my ex…”
She waves a hand. “That’s normal. But trust me, he’s an idiot.”
“Who’s an idiot?” Geoff drops onto the vinyl seat beside me. I turn to take in his costume: a red and black plaid shirt with black suspenders, over jeans. In his hand he’s holding a plastic ax.
“Oh, hey! You look great!” Cat grins and Geoff gives a half-bow in his seat. “Very lumbersexual.”
A little snort-laugh comes from my mouth and for a second I’m horrified, thinking Geoff might be offended.
But he just shrugs. “I figured if I came as a lumberjack I might attract a bear.”
He and Cat share a laugh, then turn to look at my mystified expression when I don’t join in.
“A bear?”
Geoff chuckles, patting me on the arm. “It’s a gay term for a guy who’s big and hairy. You know, like a bear.”
“Oh! That’s cute.”
He wiggles his eyebrows playfully. “You two look fantastic. Now,” he says, adjusting his glasses and taking a sip of merlot, “who’s an idiot?”
“Alex’s ex.”
Geoff raises his eyebrows. “Ex? Do tell.”
So I fill him in on the details of Travis dumping me on my birthday behind the Italian restaurant to go travel the world. In truth, I haven’t thought about Travis all that much since I’ve arrived in the city, mostly because I’ve been in survival mode, too worried I’ll have to go crawling back home.
But as I recount the whole sorry story—how we weren’t together for long but I’d kind of thought it was going somewhere—a strange sensation creeps over me. With every sympathetic head nod from Geoff, I feel increasingly foolish. Geoff and Cat are older than I am—mid-thirties, I think—and clearly a lot more worldly than me. I bet they’d never be so stupid as to believe there’s such a thing as happily ever after.
I give them a strained smile as I wrap up my sad little tale. “But it led me here, where I’m starting a new life. So, it all turned out okay in the end.” I decide not to mention that it doesn’t feel okay right now. No point in killing the mood.
Cat pushes out of the booth. “I’ll get us more drinks. Same again?”
We both nod, and I drain my wineglass with a heavy heart. Thank God Cat gets cheap drinks, otherwise I’d be drinking water. I’m not paying rent at the moment, thanks to her generosity, but I’m saving every spare penny I can for an apartment deposit, when the time comes. If the time comes.
“Well, I’m glad things are working out here,” Geoff says with a warm smile. “I was going to ask if you still needed a job, but you’re obviously all set.”
My hand stills on my glass. “What?”
“I had someone quit yesterday, and I figured if you were still looking for work you might be interested. But if—”
“Yes!” I cry, setting my glass down with a thud. “I am interested!” It takes all my self-control not to grab Geoff by the collar and beg him to hire me.
He eyes me with amusement. “But don’t you have a job?”
“Geoff—” I take a breath, trying to keep the hysteria out of my voice. “My job is awful. I get treated like shit, and I have to do things I never thought I’d do.”
Geoff’s expression shifts from amusement to outright horror. “What are you doing?” He leans closer, lowering his voice. “Are you stripping, or something?”
“What?!” I shriek, aghast. “No. I have to wear a wedding dress up and down West 8th for a bridal boutique.” I give a hollow laugh. “Stripping might actually be better. Fewer people would see me and I’m sure it would pay more.”
“Jesus.” Geoff shakes his head. “Okay, well there’s a job up for grabs if you want it.”
“Yes! Please!” Relief crashes through me. “What are the hours?”
“It’s full time, but the hours vary from week to week. I know you said you were assistant manager back home, but this won’t be management. So—”
“Geoff, if you have a job open where I don’t have to publicly humiliate myself, I’ll do whatever you ask.” He laughs and I observe hi
m over my glass of wine. “You said you get applications all the time. Why do you want to hire me?”
“You’re a friend of Cat’s, so I’m happy to help you out. Plus…” He hesitates, as if considering how much to share, then releases a long sigh, letting his gaze float across the bar. “I was once young and fresh-faced, new to the city with just the clothes on my back and the dreams in my heart…”
I bite my lip to repress a laugh at the dramatic and faraway look in his eye. He catches my expression and chuckles.
“Okay, fine. I had a U-Haul crammed with my things and an apartment my parents got for me. But the point is, I know what it’s like to arrive here and not know anyone—to feel like you don’t even know yourself.”
A rueful laugh slips from me and I glance down at my wineglass. I’m not sure if he realizes how close to home his words have hit.
“So if I can help you out, then I will. Besides, I’ve got a good feeling about you.”
“I can’t thank you enough. This is…” I feel my throat closing with grateful tears and I swallow. “I won’t let you down.”
Geoff gives my arm a squeeze. “I know you won’t.”
Cat returns with our drinks and I hold mine up in a toast. “To Geoff, my savior.”
Cat cocks her head. “Okay, what did I miss?”
“Geoff just gave me a job.”
“Oh! That’s awesome.”
I nod happily. “No more wedding dress.”
“I still can’t believe you wear a wedding dress on the street.” Geoff sips his merlot with a chuckle. “The things we do to stay in the city.”
Cat laughs, and begins telling us a horror story about a job she had once, years ago. Geoff counters with his own horror story, which no one can top. As we sip our drinks, chatting and laughing, I find myself feeling lighter for the first time since arriving in New York. It’s not just the wine, or my new friends—it’s knowing I won’t have to endure that hideous job anymore.