“Hello peasants,” Josh said as he stood in the window and waved down below.
“What if all the lights in Times Square go out at midnight because of Y2K?” Simon asked, prompting a swift punch in the shoulder from Dana.
“Really, Simon?” she said. “Why don’t you just go up to the DJ booth, scratch the record and stop the music?”
At fifty-nine seconds, the crystal ball atop the New York Times Building began to move. And of course, I began to cry. By the time we hit the ten second countdown, it was so loud with everyone inside combined with the hundreds of thousands of people outside, that it literally sounded like the entire world was counting.
Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
And then, insanity.
“Happy New Year!” everyone screamed. Balloons fell from the ceiling. The Waiter grabbed me and kissed me for what seemed like forever and yet still wasn’t long enough. The sound of the confetti canons outside startled me, as did the fireworks going off from the top of the Times tower. I was so overcome with joy. And I could not stop crying.
“Welcome to the millennium, baby,” The Waiter said, kissing my face and wiping the tears. “This is going to be our year.”
“I love you,” I said.
“I love you, Red.”
“I’m crying. And drunk. At midnight,” I said. “Dammit!”
He laughed.
“These are happy tears universe!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “I want happy tears all year long!”
The band sang “Auld Lang Syne.” Afterwards, they sang “New York, New York.” The eight of us formed a circle by the windows and sang along, arm-in-arm.
I wanted time to stop. I wanted to stay like this forever. I had never been happier at any point in my life. And I was terrified that I would never be this happy again.
CHAPTER 32
◆◆◆
Pat Kiernan lied.
My favorite news anchor warned me about the cold start to my morning commute. It was ten degrees. However, he failed to mention the bitch-slapping my face would endure as I waited for the train on the 125th Street platform. By the time I got to work, I couldn’t feel my cheeks, my eyelids, or my lips, and the only thing warm on my body was the snot dripping from my nose.
It was the Tuesday after Martin Luther King Day and Jackie was back from a two-week vacation in Bermuda. The weather in New York could not have been more of a contrast. It was so cold over the long weekend that The Waiter and I never left the apartment. Daily deliveries from Kozmo sustained us with all the necessities - food, wine, DVD rentals, condoms, oatmeal raisin cookie dough, etc. I spent the entire weekend helping The Waiter prep for a meeting with a group of investors from California. They were flying out to see him and Nick this afternoon. I’d never seen him nervous before. I was equally nervous for him.
Jackie waltzed into the office with her usual bouquet of flowers and an enviable tan that made her look like Jennifer Aniston and me look like Snow Miser.
“Happy New Year, Sammy,” she said as she passed my desk. “Why don’t you grab a cappuccino and meet me in my office?”
“Will do.”
“I already made you one,” George said, handing me a cup. “You looked like you needed it.”
“I’ve never been this cold in my life.”
“It gets worse. You might want to invest in some La Mer. You’re kinda pasty.”
I laughed and hung up my coat. I opened my desk drawer to grab a legal pad and saw the holiday card I’d received from Dalton. He’d sent it to the office because he didn’t know where I lived. Inside, he’d written a long apology. An apology that six months ago I would have thought heartfelt but now found hollow. I didn’t throw it away because it said all the things I’d always wanted him to say. However, I did put two sticky notes on it - one on the outside saying “EVERYTHING IN HERE IS A LIE” and one on the inside saying “NEVER BELIEVE HIM AGAIN. SERIOUSLY SAM.”
I grabbed my cappuccino, legal pad, and Franklin Covey day planner and headed to Jackie’s office.
“Sit down, Sammy,” she said. “I’ve got good news, bad news, and good news.”
I immediately thought I was being fired. Of course, I had no reason to think Jackie wanted to fire me and I knew I’d been doing good work, but that was the first thing that came to mind.
“So, the good news is that we just got another substantial round of funding and everyone, including you, is getting a raise.”
“That’s definitely good news. But I’m bracing for the bad.”
“The bad news is that no additional headcount was approved. The board wants us to keep our team small but grow big. We’re going to have to increase the number of articles we’re publishing and attract more advertisers.”
“You’re going to pay me more to write more? That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“It’s a lot of work, Sam. A lot of deadlines. I want you to hire more freelance writers. In fact, I want you to take on a much bigger editorial role.”
“I can do that.”
“I know you can,” she replied, arranging her flowers in a vase. “That’s why I’m promoting you to Editor-in-Chief.”
“What?”
“As of today, you are officially the Editor-in-Chief of e-Styled.com.”
“I think I’m going to faint.”
Jackie laughed.
“So I’m like, the Anna Wintour of our website?”
“Not just the website. We’re going to launch a quarterly print magazine later this year. You’ll be in charge of that as well.”
“I am going to faint.”
“Sam, it’s a tremendous responsibility and a ton of work. I know you can handle it, but if you start to get overwhelmed, you have to tell me. Deal?”
“Absolute deal! Jackie, thank you so much. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”
She got up and hugged me. “I’m proud of you. And I’m really proud of the work you’re doing. The work all of us are doing. We’re having a staff meeting in the morning to discuss our plans for the upcoming year. I’ll make the formal announcement then.”
“Great!” I left Jackie’s office and walked back to my desk. I wanted to call The Waiter immediately and tell him the good news, but I didn’t want to interrupt his and Nick’s meeting prep. Plus, I would have had to go out of the building and call him on my cell phone so that nobody else would hear, and I had no intention of going back out into the tundra. Instead, I made a note in my calendar that said, “Remember this day!” with a big smiley-face. And then I got to work.
At lunchtime, pizza arrived for the entire office and Jackie had us all gather in the conference room.
“Something’s missing,” Jackie said, looking around. She got up and walked out.
“I ordered garlic bread, too!” George yelled after her.
She returned a few minutes later with a couple of bottles of champagne.
“Today we are celebrating. Not only my triumphant return from Bermuda,” she laughed, “but the fact that we just got another round of funding. A substantial round of funding.”
Everybody cheered.
“Wait!” Jackie yelled. “Hold your cheers. Because in addition, you’re all getting raises!”
The cheers turned into screams.
“I’m so proud of all of you, and we’ve got a lot of hard work ahead. But today, we celebrate. Tomorrow we’ll discuss details. And I promise to host a more formal celebration soon.”
“I’ll go get champagne glasses!” George said.
“I’ll help.” I followed him to the kitchen.
“I hope my raise is enough for me to get an apartment in Manhattan,” he said.
“I thought you had practically moved in with Jeffery. I love you guys together.”
“Me too. But his apartment is minuscule and we’re on top of each other. And when we’re not on top of each other, we’re on top of each other.”
I laughed.
“Are there any apart
ments available in your building?”
“I don’t know. I can check.”
“I want one on your floor. Right next door. So I can see your hunky man every day.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Around four o’clock, The Waiter called with more good news.
“They bought it baby. We got a deal.”
“Are you serious? That’s incredible!”
“Yeah,” he replied. The tone of his voice was less than chipper.
“You don’t sound very excited.”
“I am, babe. I’m just in shock.”
“I need details.”
“Um, why don’t you meet me at Jake’s after work. Nick and I are here drinking.”
“I’ll be there. I have some news worth celebrating as well.”
“Are we having a baby?” he asked jokingly.
“That’s not even funny. I’ll see you around five-thirty.”
I hung up the phone and looked down at my calendar. I drew another happy face under my “remember this day” entry. I couldn’t believe it. On this random, bitterly cold Tuesday, my life had dramatically changed for the better. Twice. I had never been so certain or felt more validated of my decision to move to New York. I shuddered to think of what my life would like if I were still in Atlanta. Still with Dalton. The thought made me shiver more than my morning commute.
At five o’clock on the dot, I packed up, layered up, and headed out. I knew this would probably be the last day in a very long time I’d be leaving the office at five. And I was perfectly okay with that. I knew The Waiter would be okay with it, too. He’d be busy making his dream happen, and I’d be busy succeeding in my new role as Editor-in-Chief.
I flagged down a cab in front of the building. “Amsterdam between 80th and 81st.”
When I walked in the door at Jake’s Dilemma, The Waiter was sitting at the bar by himself. He looked exhausted. I walked over and hugged him.
“I am so incredibly proud of you. You did it, baby.”
“Thanks, Red,” he replied. I ordered an apple martini. He ordered another bourbon. From the looks of it, he’d already had quite a few.
“Where’s Nick?”
“Oh, he’s doing some kind of personal training thing tonight.”
“Well, he won’t have to do that much longer.”
“So,” The Waiter asked. “What’s your good news?”
“I just got a big raise and a big promotion. Your girlfriend is now the Editor-in-Chief of e-Styled.com.”
“Oh my god, baby!” He hugged me. “That’s incredible!”
“I know, right? We just got another round of funding. Everybody is getting raises, and a few of us, yours truly included, are getting promotions.”
“I’m so proud of you,” he said. “Are they planning on expanding to other locations?”
“I don’t think so. Not now anyway. But we are launching a quarterly print magazine in the fall. I’m so excited. It’s going to be huge.”
“I’m so happy for you, Red.”
“I’m so happy for both of us! You know, I totally thought this day was going to suck because it was so cold and I was in a bad mood this morning, but now look at us! Talk about a New York minute!”
The Waiter’s smile looked pained. I couldn’t begin to imagine the amount of stress he was under now, and the shock that came along with having your dream idea green-lighted over lunch. We got our drinks and headed to the back of the bar where there was a fireplace and comfy couches.
“Tell me everything,” I said as I plopped down on one of the sofas. “Like, where’s the gym gonna be? Did they talk about a location?”
“They’ve already got one,” he said as he sat down next to me.
“Oh my god! Where?”
He hesitated. And in that moment, I knew something was wrong. Very wrong. He couldn’t make eye contact with me.
“It’s in Los Angeles, Red.”
The brick walls of the back room seemed to close in on me. I was hoping that what he’d just said didn’t mean what I thought it meant.
“Wait. The gym is going to be in L.A., but you’ll still be here in New York, right?”
He shook his head. “They want us to move to California.”
“You and Nick?”
“Of course, me and Nick. But when I said ‘us,’ I meant me and you.”
I sat my drink down on the coffee table and buried my face in my hands. I could not have formed a cohesive thought at that moment if you’d offered me a million dollars to do so. The Waiter scooted over closer and put his arms around my waist, his head resting gently on my back.
“I know I have absolutely no right to do this,” he said, “but I love you and I’m doing it anyway. I’m moving to California, Red. And I’m asking you to come with me.”
CHAPTER 33
◆◆◆
It was the first time I’d ever been inside Madison Square Garden. It was packed. And loud. If I weren’t still in shock from yesterday’s news, I would have found it very exciting. Plus, I’d been up since five this morning and was exhausted, both physically and emotionally.
Josh’s boss at Ernst & Young had reserved the company’s luxury suite for the New York Rangers’ game, but was unable to attend at the last minute. He gave the tickets to Josh, who, of course, invited all of us. The suite was stocked with plenty of gourmet food and thankfully, plenty of top-shelf alcohol.
“You can’t leave New York,” Katie said. “You just got here.” She, Lucy and I were sitting on a leather sofa in the back of the suite while Josh, Kyle and The Waiter sat up front, completely engrossed in the game.
“You don’t have to leave,” Lucy said, taking a sip of her martini. “You’ll just be bi-coastal. Being bi-coastal is the ultimate dream of every New Yorker.”
“Does this mean you consider me a New Yorker now?”
“Girl, you were a New Yorker the night you walked into the Bubble Lounge in that Ralph Lauren dress.”
“I don’t wanna leave,” I said. “But I don’t want him to leave either. Everything was just starting to fall into place. I’m madly in love, I just landed my dream job, and Dalton’s leaving New York soon. Why the fuck did this have to happen now?”
“Wait, Dalton’s leaving?” Katie asked.
“His assignment is up at the end of March. At least, that’s what he said in the card.”
“Is he going back to Atlanta?”
“I don’t know. I guess so. Or wherever his next gig is.”
“What else did the card say?”
“The usual bullshit. That he was sorry. That he wasn’t seeing Rhonda anymore. He missed me. Blah, blah, blah.”
“I’m glad he’s leaving New York,” Katie said.
“Me too.”
“And when is he leaving?” Lucy asked, referring to The Waiter.
“Don’t know yet. Sometime next month, I think.”
I looked over at him. He and Josh were in deep conversation. I assumed they were talking about the California deal. That fucking deal that was taking him thousands of miles away from me. Of course I was happy for him. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But so was my new role as Editor-in-Chief.
“Sam,” Lucy said, putting her hand on my knee reassuringly. “I know you love him, but under no circumstances should you consider quitting your job.”
“I agree,” Katie said. “I mean, I know I’m being selfish, but I don’t want you to move to California. You have to be here to help me plan the wedding.”
“He will not be in L.A. forever,” Lucy said. “Just do the long-distance relationship thing. You’ll make it work.”
“That’s what Dana said,” I replied. I’d gone into the office early this morning because I wanted to get a jumpstart on all my new responsibilities. I called Dana as soon as I got there.
“First off, you can’t quit your job,” she said.
“I don’t want to quit my job. I love it here. But I love him, too.”
“I know you d
o. And if he loves you the same way, he’ll understand. You guys will just have to make it work.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Sam, if it doesn’t, it doesn’t.”
I immediately started crying. She had just articulated my greatest fear. If I didn’t move to California, I’d probably end up losing him. But I was already losing. I’d come into work early for a specific reason and yet here I sat, crying and unable to focus on anything but The Waiter. This is not how I wanted to spend my first day as Editor-in-Chief.
“I’m crying, Dana,” I said. “At work. I’m sitting at my desk at six o’clock in the morning crying. See? I told you when I was crying on New Year’s Eve that I’d be doing that all year long.”
“Those were happy tears, Sam. These are not.”
“Well, apparently the universe can’t distinguish between the two.”
“Okay, you need to calm down and focus. Throw yourself into your work and trust that everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. And trust me, Sam, it will.”
“God, I wished you lived here.”
“Find me a dream job up there and I’ll move tomorrow. Now, get your shit together and call me later.”
After Dana’s pep talk, I did manage to get my shit together before anyone else showed up at the office. I downed my Starbucks Venti White Chocolate Mocha and got to work brainstorming two pages worth of article ideas and reviewing portfolios for two freelance writers I was hiring. By the time Eric from IT arrived at seven, I was fully caffeinated and frantically flipping through the February fashion magazines. That was another perk I loved about my job. Every month, the office would receive advanced copies of all the major fashion publications from around the world. Part of my job was to review all of them and write a monthly “round-up” of trends. I was actually getting paid to do what I loved. Read fashion magazines. How could I ever consider giving that up?
“I don’t get hockey,” Katie said, looking up at the television monitor in the suite. “I can’t keep up with the puck.”
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