Ripped at the Seams

by Nancy Krulik

  But if Bruce noticed the women in the restaurant drooling over him, he didn’t show it. Instead, his focus was completely on Sami. “Okay, so now I bet you’re wondering what you’ll be making, and what kind of insurance we have, and when you can take your first vacation,” Bruce said, suddenly sounding quite businesslike.

  Actually, Sami hadn’t been thinking about any of that. She’d just been so excited to have a job and to be eating in this incredible New York restaurant. Still, she didn’t want to seem completely naive. “Yes, I have to admit that’s all very important to me,” she said, trying to sound as sophisticated as she could.

  “Well, we can’t start you at a big salary, but our last receptionist was making thirty-five, and I suppose you should earn the same.”

  “Thirty-five thousand dollars?” Sami asked.

  “Is it too low?” Bruce asked her nervously. “Because I really can’t go any higher.”

  Sami had no idea whether that was a low salary for New York. It sounded like an awful lot of money to her. She didn’t know any other eighteen-year-old who was earning that much.

  “Oh, and we have full medical coverage for all our employees. You get two weeks’ vacation, but you can’t take any of it for four months.”

  Four months. Quickly, Sami did some calculating in her head. Celia was three months pregnant now. She was due in January. That was a good six months away. All right. She’d be able to get home to meet her new niece or nephew.

  Bruce laughed at the bright smile that suddenly flashed across her face. “I see you’re already thinking about that vacation,” he mused, his voice regaining the more playful tone he’d had before. “So, are you seeing anyone?” he asked her casually as he deftly returned the conversation to a more personal nature.

  “No,” Sami admitted shyly. “I sort of outgrew the guys I went to school with. They all thought I was crazy to want to come here. Girls in my hometown don’t usually want careers.”

  “But you do?” Bruce asked, staring into her eyes so intently that it made her blush.

  “Oh, yes!” Sami exclaimed. “I want to be a designer. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted. Even when I was little, when the other girls were playing wedding, I was drawing their dresses and then making them out of old sheets.”

  “Sort of shabby chic wedding gowns,” Bruce joked.

  Sami giggled. “Something like that. Anyway, I knew I wasn’t going to get anywhere staying in Elk Lake.”

  “Elk Lake.” Bruce smiled broadly and chuckled at the sound of it.

  “What’s so funny about that?” Sami asked, suddenly defensive.

  “It’s just that it sounds so … small-town Americana. I sort of imagine a town with one Main Street that has a butcher shop, a barber shop, a coffee shop, and a sheriff’s office.”

  Now it was Sami’s turn to laugh. “That’s it exactly.”

  “New York must be quite a shock,” Bruce ventured a guess.

  “Not as much as I thought it would be,” Sami admitted. “I think there’s a part of me that’s always belonged here more than in Elk Lake. But then again, there’s a part of me that will always be Elk Lake.”

  “You can take the girl out of the country but you can’t take the country out of the girl.”

  Sami grinned. “That’s what they say.”

  “Well, I think you’re going to fit in here,” Bruce assured her. “Especially at Ted Frommes. It’s a small company, but that means you get a close-up look at every aspect. I’ve sat in on design meetings, accounting meetings, advertising meetings, and promotion retreats. You’re not going to get that opportunity at the big houses.”

  “Do you think Ted would look at some of my designs?” Sami asked excitedly.

  Bruce didn’t answer. Instead, he glanced down at his watch. “Whoa. We’ve got to get back to the office. Those phones are probably ringing off the hook!”

  Sami’s first day at work went quickly. Within a few hours she’d met several of the employees and could recognize them by face, if not by name. When the phones weren’t ringing, she neatened up the reception area, placing Ted Fromme catalogs near the couch, the way she’d seen in some of the other houses. She suggested to Bruce that they bring in a stereo, or at the very least a boom box, to play some mood music, and he’d agreed to see if they could requisition the necessary money from petty cash.

  She was so busy that she was literally shocked when Bruce came out from the back office and told her to go home. “What are you still doing here?” he asked her.

  “I just wanted to finish inputting everyone’s phone extensions into my computer,” Sami replied.

  Bruce seemed impressed. “I knew Roxie was lazy, but I had no idea how little she was actually doing. In one day you’ve done more than she managed in the whole three months she was here.”

  “Thanks,” Sami said proudly.

  “But you don’t have to get it all done in one day,” he continued. “A gorgeous girl like you should be at home getting all dolled up to go out clubbing or something.”

  Sami frowned. “I’m not much of a clubbing person,” she admitted.

  “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” Bruce urged her.

  “I don’t know where any of the clubs are. And I wouldn’t go alone, anyway.”

  Bruce nodded slowly. “Well, I’ve got to spend tonight working on some designs to show Ted, but I could show you around sometime.”

  Sami felt a twinge of jealousy. Bruce was designing clothes while she was putting together a personnel directory. Still, at least she had a job. And he was awfully nice. “I’d like that,” she said honestly.

  “Now go home,” Bruce urged.

  “I just need to—”

  “Hey, I’m your boss,” Bruce interrupted. “And I say go home and relax.”

  Sami piled into the subway car with the rest of the rush hour crowd. She held her portfolio tightly under one arm and held on to the overhead handrail with her other hand. As the car moved along its underground track, Sami felt a rush of excitement. These people were all New Yorkers heading home from work … and she was one of them!

  When the train stopped at Forty-second Street and Eighth Avenue, Sami got out and headed over to the Beresford Arms. She was exhausted. The thought of taking a shower—albeit a lukewarm, rust-tinged shower—beckoned her. For the first time she couldn’t wait to get to the little room on the second floor of the hotel.

  But when she reached the Beresford Arms, there were police cars blocking the street. Several men and women in blue uniforms were standing on the sidewalk, exchanging notes with two detectives in black slacks, white shirts, and silver badges. Sami tried to walk past them and into the hotel, but one of the officers stopped her.

  “I’m sorry, miss, but you can’t go in there,” he told her.

  “Why not?”

  The police officer was obviously not used to having his orders questioned. “It’s a police matter,” he said simply.

  “But this is where I’m staying,” Sami continued.

  “Well, hopefully you can get back in there in an hour or two.”

  “But—”

  “Look, kid,” the officer said firmly, “we’re investigating a murder here. No one’s getting in that building until our forensics team has had a chance to get all the evidence they’ll need. If I let everyone traipse in and out, we’ll have a bunch of contaminated evidence.”

  “A murder!” Sami gasped. “But who? How?”

  “I can’t tell you that,” the officer replied in an official tone. “We’re not releasing any information to the public at this time. But I can tell you one thing: This isn’t the first murder I’ve seen in this joint. The clientele here aren’t exactly strangers to crime. What’s a nice kid like you doing here, anyway?”

  Sami could feel tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m not exactly sure,” she murmured.

  “Well, I’d find another place to stay if I were you,” the officer said as he turned and walked back toward a group of his f
ellow police.

  Sami began to cry as she watched the officer walk away. She’d never experienced anything like this before. The worst crime she could remember happening in Elk Lake was the time some high school kids knocked over a bunch of mailboxes on Halloween. Murder … If her father heard anything about this, he’d come and drag her home.

  Still, at the moment, Sami had no place else to stay. She’d have to wait until the police could let her back in, and then first thing in the morning she’d look for a new home. For now, there was nothing else to do but take a long walk.

  As Sami walked along Tenth Avenue, she struggled to regain her footing. But no matter how hard she tried to focus on something—anything—other than the murder, her mind kept racing back to what the policeman had said. “The clientele here aren’t exactly strangers to crime.” It was a scary thought.

  The longer she walked in the heat, the more tired and frightened Sami became. The sound of a truck backfiring almost sent her running for cover. So she was happy when she found a nice quiet place to stop in and rest her feet. The Fresh Brew Coffeehouse was a coffee shop just like her dad’s place in Elk Lake. But other than serving coffee, the two establishments had nothing in common. At her dad’s place, people sat at the counter or in booths, sharing their experiences over coffee and a slice of pie or a sandwich. But here, there were no welcoming booths. Just small round tables with one or two wooden chairs beside them. There were only five customers in the coffee shop, and no one was talking to anyone, although one woman was having an animated conversation on her cell phone.

  Sami ordinarily would never have any caffeine this late in the day, but who knew how many hours it would be before she’d be allowed back into the Beresford Arms for the night?

  “An iced coffee, please,” Sami told the girl at the counter.

  “Sure. Do you want an iced latte, skim latte, soy latte, iced cappuccino, iced mochaccino, or iced espresso?”

  “Just iced coffee,” Sami repeated.

  “You’re sure?”

  Sami nodded.

  “Oh, that’s a problem,” the girl murmured.

  “Why?” Sami asked her.

  “I’ve never made one of those.”

  Sami sighed. “Never mind. I’ll just have an iced tea.”

  “Raspberry, green, citrus, or black tea?” the girl behind the counter asked.

  Sami sighed. Who would have thought ordering iced tea could be this complicated? “Black tea,” she said finally.

  “Do you want whole milk, skim milk, soy milk, or lemon with that?”

  “Just black iced tea in a glass with a straw,” Sami said in a measured tone.

  “You don’t have to get nasty,” the girl barked back.

  Sami sighed, instantly shamed. “I’m sorry. I just found out that there was a murder in the hotel I am staying in and—”

  “Ooo! I heard about that. You’re at the Beresford Arms? That place is gross.”

  Sami nodded. “I know. But it was all I could afford when I got here. Now I’m going to look for an apartment, although I’m not even sure where to start. I can’t spend a whole lot on rent.”

  “Did you check the bulletin board?”

  “What bulletin board?”

  The girl pointed to a board on the far wall of the coffeehouse. “Sometimes people post ads for roommates there. Maybe you can find something. Most of the people who come in here are artists and musicians, so they need someone to split the rent.” She handed Sami her iced tea. “Here you go, one plain black iced tea.”

  “Thanks,” Sami said. “How much?”

  “Two-fifty.”

  Sami sighed. Two dollars and fifty cents for an iced tea! Amazing. Still, if she could get a lead on an apartment, it would be worth the investment. She took the glass of tea and walked over toward the bulletin board. There were plenty of signs posted. GUITAR LESSONS FROM A PRO … ARE YOU LOOKING TO LOSE WEIGHT, FAST? … PROFESSIONAL DOG WALKER LOOKING FOR WORK! … DAILY DANCE CLASSES … ROOMMATE WANTED.

  Sami’s eyes focused on the ad for a roommate. In smaller print, it read:

  Female nonsmoker seeks same to share East Village one-bedroom walk-up. No pets allowed. $450 a month. Contact Rain G.

  The ad gave the phone number and address of the apartment. Sami wasn’t wasting any time. She pulled out her cell phone and quickly dialed the number on the paper.

  “Hello,” a woman answered.

  “Hello,” Sami replied. “I’m looking for Rain G.?”

  “This is Rain.”

  “Oh, hi. My name’s Sami. I’m calling about your advertisement. Are you still looking for a roommate?”

  “Yes,” Rain replied. “When would you like to come over and see the apartment?”

  “Would now be too soon?” Sami replied anxiously.

  Five

  “Did you have any trouble finding the place?” Rain G. asked Sami as she opened the door and gave Sami her first view of the apartment.

  “Not too bad,” Sami said, looking around. “Your directions were perfect. I would have been here sooner, but the train stopped in between stations for a while.”

  “Let me guess,” Rain joked. “The conductor told you the problem was a fzzpzzfzzpzz.”

  Sami giggled. The tall, redheaded woman had done a perfect imitation of the garbled announcement that came over the subway loudspeaker.

  “So come on in,” Rain said. She led Sami into the apartment. “I’ll give you the grand tour.” She held out her arms and pointed at the worn couch, two black chairs, card table, stereo, and TV. “This is the living room, dining room, and TV room. Over there’s the kitchen, such as it is. It’s pretty small, but I don’t mind because I eat a lot of take-out. The bathroom’s over there.” She pointed to a closed door. “And the bedroom is right through here.”

  Sami followed Rain into the bedroom. It was small, although not as small as her room at the Beresford Arms. Rain had divided the single bedroom in two with the use of a screen decorated with Asian women collecting water.

  “And that’s it,” Rain said, walking back into the living room. “Not much of a place, but it’s home.”

  “It looks amazing compared with where I’ve been staying,” Sami assured her. “The Beresford Arms is awful. There was a murder there today!”

  “Yeah, that’s not the greatest place,” Rain admitted.

  “You know it?” Sami asked.

  “No,” Rain replied. “But I’ve heard of it. And I know places like it. I stayed in a few of them when I first got here.”

  “You’re not from New York?” Sami asked.

  Rain laughed. “No. I’m from Carmel Gardens, Virginia. It’s a really small town. If you’re ever driving through, don’t blink. You might miss it.”

  “Sounds like my hometown.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Elk Lake, Minnesota.”

  Rain nodded understandingly. “And let me guess, everyone there thinks you’re nuts for moving here.”

  “Well, not everyone,” Sami admitted. “My brother and sister-in-law think it’s great. But the rest of the people in town …”

  “I know; I’ve been through it.” She waved her hand a bit. “So has just about everyone else I’ve ever met here.”

  “Really?” Sami said.

  “Sure. Sometimes I don’t think there really is such a thing as a native Manhattanite.”

  Sami looked at Rain. It was hard to believe this thin, sophisticated young woman had ever lived in a small town. She looked totally downtown New York in her black jeans and green Juicy cropped tee. Her ears were pierced several times—she had at least four hoops in each one. And she’d no trace of an accent. “How long have you lived in New York?” Sami asked her.

  “’Bout a year,” Rain replied.

  Sami hid her amazement. Was it possible that in one short year she might look as downtown hip as Rain did?

  “So what do you do?” Rain asked, settling down in one of the chairs and indicating Sami should sit.
/>   “Well, I want to be a designer,” Sami told her. “I mean, I am a designer. But right now I’m working as a receptionist at Ted Fromme Fashions.”

  “Ooo, Ted Fromme. They make some nice stuff. Do you get a discount?”

  “I don’t know,” Sami admitted. “I could ask.”

  “That would be cool.”

  “So, what do you do?” Sami asked.

  “I’m a model.”

  “Wow!”

  “Oh, it’s not all that impressive,” Rain admitted. “Everyone in this neighborhood is either a model, an actress, an artist, or a musician. We’re all also waiting tables.”

  Sami giggled.

  “But just because I serve veggie burgers at Dojo doesn’t mean I’m not a real model,” Rain continued, folding her long legs beneath her on the couch. Her large hazel eyes grew animated as she talked about her fledgling modeling career. “I’m with an agency and everything. Chic Modeling. Have you heard of them?” Sami shook her head. “Well, they’re pretty big. And they think I have a lot of potential. So far all I’ve done are a few catalog shots, but I’m hoping to get some runway work during the Bryant Park shows this year.”

  “That would be really exciting,” Sami agreed, having no idea who Bryant Park was or what he designed.

  Rain was about to answer when suddenly the bathroom door opened and a guy walked out. He looked to be about twenty-four or twenty-five years old. He was tall and dark haired, and had eyes the color of coffee with just a drop of cream in them. But his most noticeable features were his broad shoulders and a killer set of six-pack abs—a fact Sami noticed right away, since he wasn’t wearing anything more than a pair of cut-off shorts and a pair of sneakers. “Oh hey, Vin,” Rain said as he came into the living room. “I’d almost forgotten you were here. This is Sami.”

  Sami gulped. Rain must have a boyfriend. She wondered if he stayed in the apartment often. There was only that thin Japanese screen between the beds, and Sami didn’t think she’d be comfortable with Rain and this Vin person right next to her doing, well, whatever they might be doing.