I Heart New York (20 page)

In a Starbucks with wireless internet I logged on. My blog was short and to the point.
The Adventures of Angela: Moving On From Moving On
. Yes, I had a lot of crap to wallow in, and I could feel sorry for myself for the next five years if I wanted, but I also had a lot to be glad about and from here on in, that was what this diary was going to be about. I emailed it to Mary and sat staring out of the window, occasionally catching my reflection when a car parked up or someone paused to look inside. I didn’t look different any more, I just looked like me. One battle won.

‘Hey, excuse me,’ a tall, skinny girl stood at my shoulder, clutching a takeaway coffee cup. ‘Are you that girl from
The Look
website?’

‘Oh,’ I said, flustered. ‘Yes, I suppose I am.’

She sat down at my table and beamed, pushing curly red hair away from her lip gloss. ‘I knew it was you, I saw the Marc Jacobs bag. I was just reading your last entry. My friend is like, obsessed with blogs, she forwarded me yours. I’m Rebecca’

‘Oh,’ I repeated. It hadn’t occurred to me that people might recognize me. Eeep. ‘Sorry, I’m Angela. Did you like it? The blog?’

‘Shit, it was hilarious!’ She grinned. ‘It’s like, you’re totally living my life. My boyfriend cheated on me too, he was a complete shit. But your life is way funnier. And I didn’t hook up with two really hot guys, like, days later.’

‘Oh,’ I really didn’t know what else to say. I hadn’t looked at the website since it went live, I just couldn’t bear to see that before picture of myself again. ‘It’s not totally like that, I mean, I’m not, you know.’

‘So it’s not real?’ She frowned. ‘You make it up?’

‘No,’ I said quickly. ‘It is real, it’s just a bit weird talking about it. You’re the first person I’ve met who has read it.’ I managed a smile. ‘Sorry.’

‘No worries,’ she smiled again. ‘You’re just a total hero to me. I wish I had got up and done something amazing when I found out about my ex, instead of throwing up for three days and then burning all his stuff.’

‘I wouldn’t have been against burning his stuff. Between you and me, I might have peed in my ex’s toiletry bag. I know, it’s disgusting.’

‘Oh my God,’ she squealed. ‘That’s awesome. I didn’t think British people did shit like that. Are you going to be in the magazine?’

‘I don’t think so.’ This was fun, I was a minor celebrity! ‘It’s just a little online thing. I can’t believe you’ve even seen it.’

‘Are you kidding me?’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘Haven’t you seen how many hits your page has had? It’s like, thousands.’

‘Really?’ I asked, looking at my laptop. Was she serious?

‘Yeah, like, so many more than the other
Look
blogs. Yours is so the best thing on that site.’ She stood up, leaving her coffee cup half empty, behind. ‘I’ve got to run back to the office, but it was so cool to meet you. I hope they print the diary, I’m totally going to email them.’

‘Bye, nice to meet you!’ I called after her. The second she was out of the coffee shop, I was back online. There it was, TheLook.com,
The Adventures of Angela
. And according to the counter, there had indeed been thousands of visitors to the site. Hundreds of thousands. Thousands of people reading about me. It felt out and out weird. And then, when I thought about what I’d written, it felt scary. Forget Alex’s mum, what if my mum read it? And Mark. He had no right to know what I was doing. Who I was doing…The post about my night with Tyler, oh my God. Not good.

While I sat scanning my previous posts, wondering if Mary would let me go back and edit, an email popped up in my inbox from her
Look
email address.

Angela,

Got today’s entry, really interesting. So did you see the blog is a big success?

Can you make a meeting on Friday? 4.00 p.m. my office.

Thanks,

Mary

I pulled out my mobile and hit Alex’s number. It clicked through for a moment giving me just enough time to think and hang up.

He hadn’t called.

Why hadn’t he called?

It had been more than a whole day since I had left his apartment. Instead, I dialled Jenny at work, hoping she had made it to the concierge desk on time.

‘The Union,’ she answered in a sleepy monotone. Still playing sleep catch-up from the night before, clearly.

‘Jenny, it’s me,’ I said quickly, rambling the whole story about the blog and the hits and the redhead fan and Mary’s email, leaving out the part where I faux-called Alex. I had promised not to go into the boy stuff until I’d sorted out the Angela stuff after all.

‘Wow, that’s so cool,’ she yawned. ‘You want to come over here? I’ve got a break in half an hour.’

‘I’m supposed to meet Tyler for dinner,’ I said cautiously. ‘I should probably go and get changed or something.’

‘You should go and buy something fabulous,’ she said, giving me permission to abuse my credit card without even knowing it. ‘Seriously, I’d totally celebrate. And you need more stuff if you’re going to be a celeb.’

‘I really don’t need more stuff!’ I shut down my laptop and placed it back in my (sigh) bag. ‘I think my credit card is about to snap. See you tonight.’

‘You’re not going to stay at Tyler’s?’ she asked. I wasn’t sure if this was a test or not.

‘Don’t think so,’ I said, as offhanded as I could manage. ‘I’ve got stuff to do tomorrow and I’m sort of thinking about breaking it off.’

‘Cool,’ she yawned again. Clearly too tired to be testing me. ‘Well, I’ll be home around midnight. Provided that Disney bee-otch staying in the penthouse doesn’t decide to throw another orgy I have to cover up. See you then?’

‘I love that this is your everyday life. Have you thought about counselling her?’

‘I told her she was worth more when I found her butt naked on the balcony with three of the
Gossip Girl
cast this morning,’ Jenny sighed. It was a beautiful image. ‘And she told me she was worth exactly seventeen point six million at the last count and could I bring up some clean towels. She’s eighteen. I’ve started to worry about my future as the next Oprah. Oprah wouldn’t want to knock her ass over the balcony.’

‘Try and refrain from manslaughter and remember it’s all material,’ I said, hanging up.

I checked my missed calls list.

Nothing.

I was so annoyed with myself. I really thought I’d got somewhere today and now, here I was, obsessing over why Alex hadn’t called me.

‘Why don’t you just call him?’ asked the little voice in my head. It seemed like a good idea, why didn’t I? Before I had the chance to second guess myself, I dialled and let it ring. And ring. And eventually, go to answer phone.

‘Hi, Alex, it’s Angela, uhhhhh,’ I started. One day I’m going to have the perfect answer phone message. Just not today apparently. ‘I just wondered if you wanted to do something tomorrow, but don’t worry if you’re busy or something. Talk to you later. Bye.’ I hung up and frowned.

Maybe I did need a little bit more stuff.

CHAPTER TWENTY

When Tyler rang my buzzer at seven, Alex still hadn’t called. I refused to think about what that did or didn’t mean and instead, took one last look in the mirror and checked out my make-up. It looked fairly good, better than I would have managed two weeks ago. And my new Nanette Lepore dress was gorgeous. Seriously though, why hadn’t Alex called? I checked my phone once more, then threw it into my (wonderful) bag and walked out of the door.

From the moment I ducked into the cab, I knew I should have cancelled. Tyler was his usual lovely self, asking me questions about my week, which I evaded by bouncing them right back.

‘Same old, same old,’ he smiled easily, directing the taxi driver downtown. ‘Been running a lot, work’s been a pain in the ass the last couple of days. I actually could really use a break. Just a couple of days away somewhere.’

‘Yeah,’ I said, staring out of the window, watching the Washington Square Arch zoom by. ‘It’s good to get away.’

‘You want to do it next weekend?’ he asked, squeezing my hand. He looked immaculate as usual. Yes, he was a city boy like Mark, but the similarities really did start and end there. His hair was ruffled from product, not a slightly off-putting nervous hair-tugging habit and his suit was immaculately cut, and I was fairly certain it wasn’t M&S crease-resistant. It certainly wasn’t machine-washable. ‘My friend has a house in the Hamptons, and he’s going to be away on business. You would love the Hamptons, parties to go to, it’s way cooler than in the city, and there’s the beach. Did you bring a swimsuit?’

‘Oh, uh, swimsuit?’ I asked, caught off guard. I’d been staring at his forearms for just a second too long. Was it wrong to have a fetish for forearms? They were more tanned than Alex’s, but maybe not as nice. Not that I was thinking about Alex. At all. ‘Where are we going tonight?’

‘Oh, Balthazar, it’s great. The
moules frites
are perfection, and it’s probably just cool enough for you,’ he teased. ‘Been to any gigs lately?’

‘Not since I saw you last.’ I didn’t want to think about gigs.

‘Are you OK?’ Tyler asked as the cab pulled up. ‘You seem a little out of it.’

‘No, I’m fine.’ It hardly seemed fair, mooning over Alex’s forearms when he hadn’t even called, and Tyler was here, taking me out to dinner, offering to take me away for the weekend. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve just been thinking about the website and stuff. My editor asked me to come in again, but I don’t really know what for. I suppose I’m a bit worried.’

‘It’s all good though, right?’ he asked, directing me inside. The restaurant was stunning, a packed-out little French bistro, crammed with beautiful people. More Brownie points for another amazing venue. ‘The website thing?’

‘You haven’t looked?’ I was half surprised and entirely relieved. ‘Apparently, it’s doing well.’

‘I did mean to take a look,’ he confessed, smiling comfortably at the maître d’ and sailing past the waiting couples. We were seated at a quiet corner table for two and quickly presented with iced water, bread, and champagne that Tyler had apparently preordered. I’d got so hot and bothered about a certain non-existent phone call, I’d forgotten how much fun it was to be with Tyler. ‘I’ve just been so busy at work and I hardly ever go online at home. Sorry, I’m glad it’s going so well though.’

‘Don’t be, I’d rather you didn’t look,’ I smiled, trying to invest myself in the date. ‘It’s completely embarrassing. This girl came up to me in a café this morning because she recognized me. I nearly died.’

‘If I’d known I was dating a celebrity, I’d have dressed up,’ he said, ordering appetizers for both of us. I could feel my brain turning to mush and a silly smile taking over my face. Sod the non-phoner.

‘I am not a celebrity!’ I wondered what he classed as dressing up. Relieved of his suit jacket, his shirt crisp and smart, and as usual, he smelled delicious. ‘And you know you look great.’

‘You don’t look too bad yourself. That’s a great dress,’ he grinned, tapping me under the table with his foot. ‘I can’t help but think you’d look better out of it though.’

‘Really,’ I laughed, colouring slightly as the waiter hovered at Tyler’s elbow with the champagne. I was starting to be glad I hadn’t cancelled, and also starting to worry as to whether or not I’d be able to keep my gorgeous new dress on at the end of the night. What a slut!

Dinner was divine. Tyler really knew his food, and for the most part, I managed to put Alex out of my mind. During the appetizers, we planned our dream holidays–me taking in a cross America road trip in a turquoise Cadillac, Tyler touring Europe in a private plane–and by the time the waiters cleared away our entrées, we’d covered favourite films, TV shows and books. At last I was really starting to think I knew something about Tyler.

‘And I already know you’re into your hipster music, right?’ Tyler smiled, accepting the dessert menu. ‘I bet you love all those skinny boys with greasy girls’ hair and band names that start with “The”.’

I smiled and shook my head, trying not to remember soft, smoky-smelling hair brushing against my lips. ‘What about you?’

‘I like everything, I guess,’ he shrugged. ‘I like all music.’

Biting my lip, I thought back to what Alex had said in the coffee shop. Saying you liked all music meant you didn’t love any. God, he was so arrogant. And why hadn’t he called me?

‘I just have to go to the bathroom,’ I excused myself, rifling through my (beautiful) bag before I’d even made it down the stairs. Shit, three missed calls. All from Alex. I ran my wrists under cold water in the bathroom, then towelled off before I dialled my voicemail, promising myself I’d only listen to his message once.

‘Hey, it’s Alex,’ he began, ‘you still want to meet tomorrow? Give me a call.’ That was it. I looked at my watch, it was only 9.30. I still had time to call for tomorrow, but not while I was out with Tyler, that was too weird.

‘I wondered if you were coming back,’ Tyler said as I took my seat. ‘Something exciting happening in there?’

‘Oh, it was really busy,’ I said, hoping he didn’t know how many toilets there were. ‘Too many women, not enough loos.’

‘Loos,’ he shook his head smiling. He really was incredibly good-looking, I thought, trying to concentrate. The wavy hair, mussed up from a day in the office, his crinkly, smiley eyes, his light tan. But when he took my hands in his, all I could think about was his manicured nails and Alex’s calloused fingertips, and they just didn’t compare.

‘You want to get dessert?’ he asked, leaning across the table and lowering his voice. ‘Or do you want to head back to mine and get something really good?’

‘I, uh, I have to meet my editor at nine,’ I mumbled, trying to ignore the heat rising in my cheeks, the tingle in my belly. ‘I think I really ought to be in my bed tonight.’

‘I have to be up early too,’ he shrugged, waving the waiter over to bring the bill. ‘Unless you just really want me to see your room.’

‘Oh, I sort of meant, maybe not tonight.’ I was so red, I was practically glowing. ‘To be honest, I’ve had a headache all day. I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. If you’re not well…’ he trailed off, looking around the room, tapping his fingers on the table.

‘Do you want to do something later in the week?’ I blurted out. God, what was wrong with me? I was going to end up married to him out of politeness if I wasn’t careful. ‘I could cook dinner, Friday night?’

‘Yeah, sure,’ he nodded, still not looking at me. ‘Sounds great.’

We headed out on to the street in an awkward silence, luckily flagging a cab down right away. I tried to think of something to say, but there was nothing there at all.

‘Great restaurant,’ I tried. Tragic.

‘Yeah, it’s always good.’

‘Great.’

‘Yeah.’

Clearly this wasn’t going to be made easy. I tried placing my hand on his knee and giving him a sweet smile, but he just covered it with his own without looking at me. I stared out of my window, racking my brain for something to say that wouldn’t end in me asking him up for a coffee. Before I’d had time to muster up another pathetic attempt at conversation, we were cornering onto Lexington Avenue and pulling up outside my flat.

‘Friday, then?’ I asked, as he let me out. Pissed off he might be, but Tyler was always the gentleman.

‘Yeah,’ he said, softening slightly for a goodnight kiss. ‘You take care of yourself. No headaches allowed on the weekends.’

I smiled and waved him off, before opening my bag, taking out my phone and calling Alex. It felt slightly shitty waving one man off and then calling another, but I couldn’t help it.

‘Hi, Alex?’ I tried to sound casual when he picked up on the third ring. ‘It’s Angela.’

‘Hey,’ he yawned. Yawning at ten p.m.? Not very rock and roll. ‘Sorry I missed your calls, I’ve been in the studio the whole time since you left. I’m so fucking tired.’

‘The studio?’ I asked. Another fabulous question from the world’s greatest conversationalist.

‘Yeah, I wanted to demo some of those new songs,’ he said. ‘I just completely lost track of time, and, well, what day it was. Where are you?’

‘I’ve just been at dinner with a friend,’ I said, leaning against the wall. The evening was still pleasantly warm, but Alex’s sleepy voice was giving me goosebumps. ‘So, what about tomorrow?’

‘Yeah, I’m not doing anything.’ I could hear music on low in the background. It sounded like Alex singing. ‘I could give you the tour of Williamsburg if you’re free?’ he suggested.

‘Sounds good.’ I smiled to a passing stranger who looked at me oddly. ‘Where should I meet you?’

‘Uh, at the Bedford Avenue station? About eleven?’ he yawned again. He really was too cute.

‘I’ll see you there.’ I yawned a little myself. It was even contagious on the phone. ‘Hope you sleep well.’

‘I will, I’ll be saving my energy for tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Sleep tight.’

I smiled as I hung up, date with Tyler forgotten, date with Alex buzzing around my mind.

It was still so early, I’d beaten Jenny home from work. I grabbed my laptop and lay on the sofa, thinking about what to write. If I stored a blog entry now, I could just email it from Alex’s without interrupting our day tomorrow. I quickly bashed out the details of my date with Tyler and made some vague references to my day out in Brooklyn with Alex,
Balthazar or Brooklyn?
before logging off and dozing on the sofa. Mary had said her readers would go crazy for a Wall Street type, so after all, I was just giving the people what they wanted.