I'll Take New York

by Miranda Dickinson

  I was wrong about the party, Bea said to herself, I do have a friend here. She smiled at the breathtaking nightscape. Hi, NYC. I’m so glad to see you …

  ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’

  Bea looked across at the blond-haired guest beside her. She guessed he was in his thirties, although in this part of New York it was impossible to tell. He might just have a very good surgeon …

  ‘Stunning. Must be fabulous to live somewhere like this.’

  He smiled, revealing a perfect set of brilliantly white teeth. ‘It is. Forgive me, I haven’t introduced myself.’ He held his left hand out, the light from the halogen spots above them glinting across the wide gold band on his third finger. ‘Wes Avery.’

  ‘Bea James.’

  ‘Pleasure to meet you, Bea. So how do you know the happy couple?’

  Given that this was a private engagement party for a couple Bea didn’t even know, she had been dreading this question. ‘They’re good friends of my brother’s partner, Celia.’

  ‘Celia Reighton? Wow, I didn’t realise I was in the company of a Reighton clanswoman.’ Seeing Bea’s confusion, he laughed. ‘I know her well. So you’re Stewart’s single sister, huh?’

  Great. ‘I suppose I must be.’

  ‘I’ve been hearing about you from Celia. Seems she’s keen to get you hooked up.’

  That figured. Bea kept her smile steady while secretly planning how she would exact her revenge on Stewart’s partner. ‘I see. Well, I’m in no hurry to …’

  Wes’ hand appeared at the small of her back, the sudden – and uninvited – contact causing Bea to quickly step away. ‘Hey, don’t sweat it. Being single is an advantage. Just because people arrived here in couples, doesn’t mean they all want to leave in one.’ His thousand-kilowatt smile fixed squarely on her. ‘Listen, I have a great loft a few blocks from here. If you ever want a personal, private view of the Upper West Side, call me.’ He thrust a business card into her hand and sauntered away.

  Stunned, Bea stared at it. Had a married man just propositioned her? This evening was getting better and better …

  ‘Sis, you’ve got to try the sashimi,’ Stewart said, stopping when he saw Bea’s horror. ‘What? You don’t like raw seafood?’

  ‘I do … I just …’ She swallowed as the full impact hit her. ‘A married guy just gave me his card.’

  Stewart pulled a face. ‘Eeww. I hope you sent him packing?’

  ‘Of course I did.’

  ‘Good. I’m afraid Celia is playing Millionaire Matchmaker for you. I’ve told her to stop, but you know what she’s like once she gets an idea in her head.’

  Bea raised her eyes to the apartment’s high ceiling. ‘Fantastic. So not only am I fair game for adulterous Lotharios but I’m now your girlfriend’s pathetic pet project. I think I might just go, Stew. I don’t know anyone here and it should be a celebration for Celia’s friends.’

  ‘You’ve been here less than an hour. And whether you like it or not, this is what being single in Manhattan is like. Better to get used to it and learn to enjoy yourself, I reckon. Stay. Try the sashimi. It’ll change your life.’

  ‘Maybe later.’

  Her brother shot her a look. ‘OK. But if I come back in half an hour and you’re still moping here I’m going to force-feed you gourmet food.’

  ‘Fine.’

  Forget sashimi, Bea thought. What I need is a drink …

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Private loft apartment, Upper West Side

  ‘So sorry to hear about Jess, man. I thought you two were made for life …’

  Jake could feel the edges of his smile fraying and longed to change the subject. But this had become the sole topic of conversation with everyone he had talked to during the last hour. It was, of course, an unavoidable hazard; most of Ed’s friends had known Jake since childhood and therefore were fully appraised of every aspect of his life. And those who didn’t know every available detail were only too happy to be shocked by it tonight. Everywhere he walked in the elegant apartment, he could feel the pitying eyes of almost a hundred guests following him. How had this outcome not occurred to him when he was drawing up the guest list for this evening?

  ‘Shame you didn’t invite more single women,’ a well-meaning friend observed. ‘Even the waiting staff are all guys.’

  Jake shrugged. ‘My bad. Anyway, I’m not looking.’

  His friend’s blonde companion tittered. ‘This is Manhattan, Jake. Everybody is looking.’

  ‘Especially the ones who shouldn’t be,’ another friend quipped, his remark allowing the group now gathered around Jake to laugh and not feel so awkward about the situation.

  Jake wished for light relief to rescue him in the same way, but none appeared. ‘They’re welcome to the search. I’m not in the game.’

  The blonde’s nipped-and-tucked features fell as far as they could. ‘Don’t ever say that,’ she breathed. ‘You shouldn’t deny yourself, Jake! You’re still young and … virile …’ Her ill-disguised survey of just how young and virile Jake was left him reeling and he mumbled something unintelligible to make his escape.

  This place is nuts! How had his good intentions towards Ed brought him into the minefield he now found himself in? He looked up to the apartment’s mezzanine where his brother and Rosie were looking happy and relaxed, sharing conversation with friends. At least they were enjoying tonight. This was their night, Jake reminded himself, not his. It would have to be his mantra for the rest of the party. That, and bourbon …

  He remembered a client he had worked with back in his Russian Hill practice in San Francisco, who went to every social occasion convinced the rest of the guests knew his deepest, most secret thoughts.

  ‘They watch me, Dr Steinmann. They say pleasant things, but I can feel them scrutinising me. Like a bug.’

  ‘Why do you think they would want to do that, Ray?’

  ‘Are you kidding me? Do you know what I’m capable of thinking? They know it all, Doc. I can’t hide.’

  Jake had spent months assuring Ray that small talk was a way to pass the time and socialise without asking too much of either party; that everyone had their own set of hang-ups and insecurities to deal with; and that it was impossible to see anyone’s innermost thoughts, however obvious they may seem to be. But even on their last session before Jake packed up his San Franciscan life, Jake hadn’t been entirely assured that Ray had accepted it.

  Now, surrounded by familiar faces that did know Jake’s business and were making valiant attempts to guess his innermost thoughts, he felt a new affinity with his former client’s predicament.

  ‘Jake …’ Chef Henri was wringing his hands beside him. ‘I am so sorry, but …’

  ‘The bar?’

  ‘There is a considerable queue. Do you mind?’

  Heart lifting, Jake could have kissed the apologetic chef but resisted, settling instead for slapping him amiably on the back. ‘I’m there.’

  Swinging his jacket over one arm, he rolled up his shirt sleeves and strode through the guests towards the bar, which had been set up beneath the mezzanine, next to a floor-to-ceiling window looking out towards the beautiful night-time cityscape. Seeing the buildings and lights of the Upper West Side comforted Jake: while he’d loved his adopted city of San Francisco, he had always carried a secret longing for New York. His father’s favourite saying was true: Steinmanns were born with Big-Apple-shaped hearts.

  ‘Hey, New York,’ he smiled, pausing for a moment to take in the view. ‘Looking good.’ Taking a deep breath for the first time that evening, he turned towards the bar and jumped into the fray.

  ‘Scotch straight up, no ice.’

  ‘Manhattan – one olive.’

  ‘Red wine for me and a white for the lady …’

  It had been years since Jake last worked a bar, but he quickly found his rhythm. It was good to find he hadn’t lost the skills he’d acquired during his last year at Yale and the distraction it gave him was priceless. Finally, he
could lose himself in an activity that required no deeper thought than which bottle and glass to select. Maybe this was the ideal career for him, he mused as he worked. Psychiatry was far too introspective for his current state of mind …

  The next hour flew by, Jake relishing the almost constant stream of thirsty guests vying for his attention. But as ten o’clock neared, the queue dwindled until the bar was almost empty. He helped himself to a long drink of cola, realising how thirsty his efforts had made him, and once again his eyes strayed from the bar to the night view from the huge window. There was much to do to re-establish his life in the city, but Jake knew he could make it a success here. This was his home: always had been. And that counted for a lot. Frank Sinatra had it pegged: if he could make it in the city that never sleeps, he could pretty much make it anywhere. He had spent too long feeling as if he was skulking back home, defeated. This had to stop – and tonight was as good a time as any.

  ‘White wine, please.’

  Turning back to the bar, Jake smiled at the pretty redhead with eyes the colour of the winter sea. ‘Sure. Any preference?’

  She stared at him, a weariness that didn’t seem to belong to her claiming her expression. ‘Large glass?’

  He suppressed the urge to laugh. ‘I’m sorry, I meant French? Australian?’

  ‘Alcoholic.’ She dropped her gaze to the empty glass on the bar. ‘Please.’

  Intrigued, Jake pulled a fresh glass from the box behind the makeshift bar and gave it a quick polish with a tea towel. ‘Tough night?’

  ‘You could say so.’

  ‘Ah. I see.’ He poured wine almost to the brim. ‘That enough?’

  She raised her gaze, the smallest trace of a smile appearing. ‘Perfect.’

  ‘Enjoy.’

  The woman gave a quick glance over her shoulder. ‘Actually, mind if I hang out here for a while?’ Her accent was difficult to place: the characteristic New York inflection was there, but something else lay beneath it. Boston, maybe? No. Washington?

  ‘Be my guest.’

  Smiling her thanks, she pulled up a stool and sat down, hunched over her drink like the old men at Harry’s sports bar where Jake and Ed had wasted so many of their Saturday afternoons before Jake met Jessica. Was she hiding from someone? An overbearing partner, maybe? That didn’t seem likely. She didn’t look like the kind of woman to be subservient to anybody … Maybe her guy was of the too-intense ilk, smothering her with his affection?

  Realising what he was doing, Jake pulled his thoughts to a halt. He knew nothing about this woman, but her muted demeanour told him she didn’t need the psychoanalysis of a total stranger tonight.

  ‘How’s the wine? Doing its job?’

  ‘Seems to be.’

  ‘Good.’

  Did she even want to talk? Jake hesitated to ask another question – but to his surprise, the woman stared directly at him.

  ‘Everyone here is in a couple. I mean, everyone. Nobody told me. If they’d told me I wouldn’t be here.’

  ‘It’s not surprising, considering the occasion.’

  The woman shook her head. ‘Of course. But the thing is, I didn’t know what the occasion was. I thought it was just a party. My brother’s partner omitted the key point of who the party was for.’ She let out a long sigh. ‘And now I feel like an idiot for not asking. I just thought it was a normal, Friday night party in the Upper West Side. How was I to know it was going to be the Couple Centre of the universe?’

  English! That was the clipped note in her voice! Jake congratulated himself for identifying it. ‘If it helps, I didn’t figure on there being so many couples here, either.’

  ‘Well, there you are! I should be happy you’re in the same boat but I actually feel sorry for us both. What kind of world do we live in where everything is so dominated by relationships? Does this city only function in multiples of two? I don’t think so.’ She downed half her glass and coughed a little. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just done with it all.’

  ‘Done with this city?’

  Her frown softened. ‘Oh no – never with this city. It’s the only thing you can rely on. I mean I’m done with the whole couple thing. You think it’s what you want, and you spend all your time pursuing it – but for what? To be disappointed, let down and ultimately dumped upon. I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to see it, but this week I’ve realised something: I don’t need the hassle any more.’

  Jake stared at her, suddenly wondering if Paranoid Ray was actually right. This woman – who knew nothing about him – was repeating almost word for word the thoughts that had been running through his head all evening. Without waiting for an invitation, he grabbed the wine bottle and refilled her glass.

  ‘I’m Jake,’ he said. ‘And I know exactly what you mean …’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Private loft apartment, Upper West Side

  Bea couldn’t believe it. Was there really someone else in New York who thought relationships were a waste of time? She could feel the edges of her consciousness beginning to blur and resolved to drink slower. The barman’s confession intrigued her and she wanted to know more. There was honesty in his startling blue eyes that seemed to draw her in …

  ‘I’m Bea. Thanks for the wine.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  They looked at each other for a while, the sounds of the party around them filling the air. For the first time that evening, Bea felt understood by someone else. Russ had done his best to sympathise with her, but beneath his kind words and pep talks lay the unmistakable desire to see her reunited with Otis. Celia and Stewart had listened, but they couldn’t mask their ultimate aim to see her as happily coupled-up as they were. Even her mum, speaking soothing words from the bumpy freeway as her dad drove their rented Winnebago across the United States, clearly thought her daughter just needed time before she found the man of her dreams. When it came down to it, nobody had tried to see it from Bea’s point of view. Until now …

  Sure, he was a random barman in a party neither of them wanted to be at, but at least one person in the whole of New York City understood. And right now, that seemed to Bea like the most precious discovery.

  ‘So – how do you know?’ Bea asked, before she could think better of it, quickly adding, ‘If you don’t mind me asking?’ when she saw the slight droop of his shoulders.

  ‘About relationships? Because I received divorce papers this week.’

  Instantly, Bea felt awful. Choosing to walk away from a relationship was one thing; having the decision made for you was something else. ‘Gosh – I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked …’

  ‘No, you should. It’s OK. Pretty much everyone else here knows already, so there’s no reason why you should escape the bulletin.’

  ‘That’s awful.’ Bea wished the floor would open and swallow her up. Her one interesting acquaintance in the room was now smiling so sadly at her that she felt like she’d just kicked a puppy.

  ‘Yours isn’t divorce, then?’ The joke was clearly intended to make her feel better and Bea appreciated it.

  ‘We didn’t make it as far as marriage,’ she smiled, finding the act of sharing such personal information with a relative stranger surprisingly liberating. ‘And I called it in the end.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘Five years.’

  Jake shook his head. ‘That’s tough. My marriage was seven, with three years before.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I probably should be sitting at home tonight, wishing for him back. But actually, I don’t want him back. Not like we were. It’s taken me standing in a room full of couples I don’t know and toasting a happy couple I don’t know either to discover that. The more I think about it, the more I think relationships and me are incompatible.’ She checked that Jake was still smiling at her. He was. At least that was something. ‘It might sound strange, but the thought of not being in a relationship isn’t scary to me any more. I have so much in my life that’s alread
y working: why focus on an aspect that just makes me unhappy?’

  ‘I hear you. I’m sick of trying to explain that to people. Truth is, I don’t think I want another relationship.’

  ‘Me either!’

  ‘I mean, when the one you think was The One turns out not to be, what hope is there, huh?’

  He had a nice laugh, Bea thought. Maybe it was the wine, but the more she talked to the barman, the happier she felt. ‘I am so glad I met you tonight, Jake. I was beginning to think I was losing my mind.’

  ‘When, instead, we are probably the only two sane individuals in the room tonight.’

  ‘In the Upper West Side!’

  ‘In the whole of New York!’

  Bea’s heart was racing. ‘People are so dead set on finding someone else to share their lives with. But they forget there are so many things you can do when you’re single that you can’t do when you’re in a relationship. Like assuming the sole use of the remote control.’

  Jake chuckled. ‘Amen, sister. Or heading out for dinner on a whim without having to check schedules …’

  ‘Going to the cinema by yourself and eating all the popcorn – I love that.’

  ‘Or reading the Sunday paper all day without interruption.’

  ‘Only going shopping when you feel like it – and never having to feel guilty about dragging someone else along.’

  ‘Long baths on a weeknight listening to Lou Reed …’