by Jackson Kane
Her hair fell to one side as she cocked her head. “So! Who's Mr. Lucky?”
“No one,” I said reflexively. Zenya responded with a look that demanded I spill the juicy details. I didn't want to tell her that it was a wedding guest; she had enough to think about without me heaping any more drama on her plate. “Honestly! It was just a random hook up. I don't know anything about the guy.”
“Look at you, Chili Pepper.” Zenya's chin bobbed up and down. “Less than a day in the big city and you're already stepping out of your comfort zone.”
“You have no idea what my comfort zone is,” I protested.
“I love you, girl, but the milquetoast boys you took home made vanilla look spicy.” Zenya grinned. “The only time you ever left your bedroom with bruises was when you walked into the doorknob that one time.”
“Hey! I was disoriented from all the wild sex I'd had.”
“With who?” Zenya laughed so hard that she had to wipe tears from the corners of her eyes. “Just because your vibrator got laid more often than the college football team doesn't mean it counts as wild, or sex.”
“You need to get better with your vibrator,” I shot back.
We dissolved in body-shaking giggles. It felt... good. Great, even. Zenya and I needed more time like this, it made me crazy nostalgic.
“Hey,” she said when we could breathe again. She pulled a key card from her pocket and fanned herself with it. “You wanna come see the law firm where I work?”
“A guided tour of the Chrysler building? Um, yes!” I cheered. It was my favorite skyscraper of all time.
She scooped a dress up off of a chair. “Great. This is yours, by the way. I kept it safe, but maybe I should hang onto it in case you forget about it when you're with your Mr. Lucky again?”
Rolling my eyes, I grabbed the dress and followed her out to the street. Maybe it was the time of day or the fact that Zenya just had more practice, but hailing a cab across town was a breeze.
We joked and reminisced the whole way about our time together as roommates and about our jobs at Sophie's Place.
“It sounds to me like you secretly love working there,” Zenya said after I caught her up on the years of drama that she'd missed.
“For as long as the shifts can be, I—I don't hate it.” I chose my words carefully. “In fact, I really do love the regulars that haunt the place. It's just, since Sophie left him, that Marcos has let the place fall apart.”
“Yeah. I was looking it up on Yelp and Foodler and I couldn't find it anywhere.”
I shook my head, remembering the long nights I spent doing his taxes on quick books. “He's a great guy, just a little worn out. Which is a shame, because you know how well the man can cook. I just wish I could overhaul the place and make it live up to its full potential.”
“Why don't you?” Zenya asked.
I didn't reply. The sincerity in her voice made me think about Marcos' offer to become the manager. I didn't like the idea of being in charge of something that wasn't mine. Besides, with Jennifer's offer, I might have an opportunity for a fresh start here.
I couldn't waste a chance at grasping my dreams.
The cab slowed to a stop. Zenya paid the man as I stepped out onto the still bustling street. The Chrysler building stood in front of me with a silent dignity.
“Oh man.” I gawked like a stereotypical tourist as my eyes traced the intricate brickwork all the way up to the spire that pierced the heavens. I'd been to visit Zenya twice before, but for whatever reason, we never had the time to actually come check this place out.
“Wait till you see it from our offices,” Z teased.
She was right.
The view from her floor literally took my breath away. I pressed my hands and face up against the cold windows and looked out over all of New York city. I could see where the East river carved a path through the steel jungle and escaped out into the bay. I had to squint, but I was high enough to look the majestic Statue of Liberty in the eyes.
“How do you get any work done here?” I wondered aloud, trying to imagine how different the island must have looked in the nineteen-thirties, just after the building was completed.
“Look, Simba.” Zenya put a hand on my shoulder and swept the other across the glass in a grand gesture. “Everything the light touches is our kingdom.”
I shoved her away and we both giggled. Zenya grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the view. “Come here, I want to show you something.”
She led me into her cramped, windowless office. Her small, laptop-adorned desk was swamped with thick folders and massive law tomes. It was such a stark contrast to the lawyers' offices or the meeting rooms and reception areas. Her office was poorly lit for how much research she had to do. It was kind of depressing. I wasn't really sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't this.
“Glamorous, isn't it?” Z said with obvious sarcasm. “The support staff—Research, IT, basically everyone who isn't a lawyer or receptionist, is supposed to be invisible unless there's a problem.”
Veto's earlier warnings about the culture here suddenly carried more weight.
“It can't be all bad...” I trailed off.
“It's not, but then again, I'm one of the lucky ones with my own office. The rest of the research team has to double up.” Zenya shrugged and riffled through her desk drawer.
Double up? There was barely enough room for both of us to stand in here, let alone work. The future played out in my head. Unless Jennifer had any other brothers I could marry, it looked like this was my fate if I got the job.
I could learn to like it. After all, I'd still be in New York.
“Here we go. Phew.” She smiled, looking relieved. Zenya placed a small black box on the pile of folders and opened it. Not even the fluorescent lighting could diminish the simple beauty of her gold wedding bands. She plucked one and gave it to me. “I had them inscribed. I'm going to surprise Clint with them.”
I rolled the smooth metal between my fingertips, fighting the urge to try it on and pretend I was the one getting married. I tried to make out the inscription, but it was in Latin.
“It says 'My dearest love.'” Zenya beamed. “Clint studied Latin in college for some ridiculous reason.”
“It's beautiful.” I handed the ring back with shaking fingers. I loved seeing how proud she was. I hoped that someday I could get there, too. Maybe I could even get there with Veto. I bit my lip, daring to dream.
“I need a favor.” She reverently replaced the ring next to the other, closed the box and handed it to me. “Hold onto these for me until the wedding?”
My anxiety started to kick in at the thought of that huge responsibility. “Are you sure? You teased me about losing this dress just a little while ago.”
“Please?” Zenya pleaded. “With everyone crashing at my place, my house is a frigging black hole and I won't be able to make it back here in time tomorrow to pick them up.”
What kind of terrible friend would I be if I didn't help her out? Inhaling, I put the box in my purse. “I'll guard them with my life, Mufasa.”
I expected her to joke back with me. When she hugged me instead, I knew I'd made the right decision. “Thank you. Let me quickly show you the rest of the floor before we get kicked out.”
The rest of the tour, however brief, was magical. I left the building feeling like I could check this one goal off my bucket list. With a final farewell and another bone-crushing hug, I wished Zenya a good night and took a cab back to the room I shared with Veto.
The traffic back was miserable. The closer I got to the hotel, the more I wanted to see him. It was silly, but I couldn't wait to tell him about my amazing trip. All I could think about was seeing his handsome face and basking under the gaze of those chilled, blue eyes.
I briskly walked back to the room with every step threatening to turn into a jog. I paused at the door and, remembering the incident last night, knocked. No reply. Was he naked in bed just where I left him? The idea of stripping do
wn and joining him was intoxicating. I forced my breathing under control, unlocked the door, and went in.
The room was empty. Not just of him, but also of his few things.
Baffled, I wandered around and checked every corner of the place. It was desperate and pathetic—the room was small enough to see all of it no matter where you stood—but I did it anyway. What happened? Did he get a new room; did I scare him off?
I sat on the bed and struggled with a profound sense of abandonment. He slept with me and then he ran. Acid filled my mouth. It really was a hook-up. I'm such an idiot. Feeling incredibly stupid and naive I broke down in tears.
Veto was gone.
And I'd done exactly what I hadn't meant to.
I'd dared to hope.
Chapter 6
Calli
To say sleep was fitful that night was being generous. It was more like a fever dream. I rolled in bed like someone threw me in a drying machine. The very little actual sleep I got was plagued with anxious nightmares.
Most of the night and morning I laid awake in bed, agonizing over our conversations in great, painful detail. Was any of it real? Was I a fool to have opened myself up to him so much?
This was why I couldn't do one night stands.
I didn't know how people separated love from sex. For me, they were so intricately linked. I couldn't just fuck a guy without connecting with him on some level. And with Veto, it was so much worse. There was so much to him. So many little nuances. The words he chose and even the way he said them all had a deliberate meaning. Or at least, I thought they did.
I was beginning to find out that there was a lot I didn't know.
When dawn rolled around I realized that if I kept tumbling down this rabbit hole of despair I was going to be a wreck for the wedding. It was difficult, but I pried myself from the bed and forced my way through my morning routine.
The initial cold burst of water during my shower brought a little clarity. What did I expect, really? I'd literally just met the man and was planning a life with him? Stupid.
And what did I even know about him? He said he'd worked with Clint, but he didn't explain further. For all I knew, maybe Veto and Clint weren't even friends anymore.
Coffee. Coffee was what I needed. Caffeine was the cure to all aches including those of the heart. Once I'd cleaned up enough to face the world, I went to the lobby and got a recommendation for a small coffee bar from the concierge. A life-long NYC resident and former barista himself, the man gushed at how it was a “true Manhattan experience.”
Well, hell. Could I really turn that down?
This trip wasn't just about Z's wedding, although that was the main driving focus. It was also about experiencing some of what could've been had I moved here with her.
It definitely wasn't about Veto.
“That sounds great, thank you,” I said, feeling emboldened for the first time since arriving. The concierge hailed a taxi for me, and a few minutes later I was standing in front of a barely labeled hole-in-the-wall cafe.
The menu was truncated; it was standing room only and the decor was stripped-down, uneven brickwork and exposed piping. The music was as peppy and rich as the coffee. I felt energized just by being there.
The first sip of that sultry black brew tasted like a small victory. Everything I'd done so far was just a reaction to things that happened to me. Experiencing this place that would've been a favorite haunt of mine—if I lived here--was wonderful.
The coffee shop was half a dozen blocks away from the hotel, so I decided to walk back. After all, I did have some time to kill. The wedding wasn't for several hours and I really didn't want to be stuck in that hotel room with the ghosts of my one night stand.
'If you want.'What an asshole, I thought, detouring distractedly towards Times Square. The marvels of modern society numbly drifted by me, and all the while, I couldn't get Veto out of my mind. I didn't even deserve a goodbye?
The more I thought about him the angrier I got. I'd have to see him at the wedding if he decided to show up. I wasn't going to talk to him. I didn't even want to look at him. I didn't care how gorgeous he was, especially in that damn suit.
Times Square was just as visually loud as I remembered it. This was the first place Zenya took me on our way to see the Phantom of the Opera on Broadway. Every building was covered in massive, stories-high adverts, and people crowded everywhere.
That's right, there's supposed to be a marathon happening at some point. That's what got me into this damn mess with Veto in the first place!
People pushed frantically through one another with the aimless, meandering urgency of a kicked anthill. I finally stopped and looked around. The scale of NYC's greatest tourist trap turned down the volume on my thoughts and turned up the shutter speed of my eyes.
“Hey!” I shouted after someone shoved into me. Jerk. Apparently, with so much to see, no one was watching where they were going. Absently, I adjusted the loosened shoulder strap on my purse and made a terrible realization.
My purse was gone! My phone, my wallet, the hotel room key, and the— My stomach became a pretzel when an even worse revelation strangled me.
Zenya's wedding rings!
Nononono...I spun wildly, trying to remember any detail from the guy who'd just bumped into me. He'd been wearing a hoodie, but that only narrowed it down to a couple hundred people, all of whom were going in different directions. Fuck!
Whoever took my purse was an expert. It was no use.
I'd just ruined my best friend's wedding.
The next few hours were a torrent of self-loathing. I was somehow able to keep myself from vomiting until after I filed the police report. It was a small thing, but I relished that tiny victory... especially with what was to come.
I have to tell Zenya. This was it. I'd really done it now. Being late was forgivable but this... this wasn't.
Sitting in the hotel business center, my fingers hovered over the keyboard. Without my phone, I had to message Zenya online.
Swallowing, I began to type into the little chat window.
Zenya... I'm so sorry. I was robbed. I lost everything.
I lost your rings.
I knew she saw my message because it showed as read pretty much right away. I tensed up and fought rising waves of nausea as the little typing icon in her chat window was active at least a dozen separate times, but no message ever came.
I apologized separately to Clint. He replied quickly, telling me that these things happen and not to blame myself. But it was too late for that. The damage was done and it was all my fault.
Every second that ticked closer to the wedding was one that filled me with doubt that I was even still invited. Or if I was, maybe it was better that I didn't show.
I waited by the computer for a while, but Zenya never got back to me. I couldn't blame her.
I left to sit in my car in the parking lot. My bridesmaid's dress stared at me disapprovingly. It was still in its plastic lining and was draped over my passenger seat. Unfulfilled potential, I thought, knowing that something so beautiful was never going to be worn.
I fiddled with my car keys—the only thing of value that had been in my pocket instead of in my purse—and thought about going back inside to get the rest of my clothes out of the hotel room. Could I risk seeing Veto, especially when I was so vulnerable?
I put the keys in the ignition. It didn't matter. Even the nicest clothes I owned were out-of-date, cheap knock-offs—I didn't need them. I didn't need him. I took a deep breath and found my resolve.
It was time to go home and leave all of this behind.
Click. When I turned the key the radio blasted to life, but that was it. My car was dead again.
“You have got to be kidding me!” I screamed, punching the steering wheel. “Fuck! I just want to go home!”
When I finally calmed down enough to think straight, I popped the hood and took a look for myself. Veto fixed it once, maybe I could somehow magically do the same. I didn't have m
y Triple A membership card any more so there was no way they were coming to help. Hell, even if they would, I didn't have a cellphone to call them on!
After a very cursory look, I discovered that the engine was, in fact, still in my car. So that was good. But that was about all I knew. Thoroughly defeated, I slunk back into my driver's seat and buried my face in my hands.
God, is this really my life?
I tried to keep myself from crying. I'd done too much of that lately. I was such a fucking mess; my crappy little life was fraying at the seams. I've always known I loved too easily and lost too hard, but now everything felt like it was truly unraveling.
What was left for me?
A knock on the glass behind my head startled the hell out of me. With a hand on my chest to quiet my screaming heart, I turned. Of course it was him. The one person I'd been actively trying to avoid.
Veto looked handsome and charming in his navy suit and perfect tie. His jacket was hung over my still raised hood and his sleeves were rolled up in a rugged, casual look. What was he doing?
Although it was still early afternoon, no natural light made it into this sub-level of the parking garage. The shadows across his face and form made him even more enigmatic than usual. He twisted his hand over and over; clearly he wanted me to roll down my window.
I cracked the glass a few inches. It was enough to talk through, but that was about it.
“Hi,” Veto said, bending forward.
“How did you find me?” I asked, glancing at him in bursts. It was so hard to look at him for too long.
“Just lucky, I guess.” His soft lips curled into a half-smile. After studying my face all his humor drained away. His typically intense gaze became more concerned, more... caring.
No! Stop reading into things. It's just a regular gaze. Isn't it?
“The concierge told me what happened. Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes. No. I don't know.” I shrugged, collecting my thoughts. “Physically I wasn't hurt.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”