Love and Chaos (23 page)

“Rock Dog!” I say. “Lingonberry juice!”

“Oh my Lord!” Adrian looks like he’s never been so happy to see anyone in his entire life, and quickly introduces me to his boyfriend, Edward. “This is the girl! The girl who gave me that amazing tip on my first day! Wow, honey, you shouldn’t be giving out tips like that if you work here.”

“I kinda fell on hard times just after that.”

“Ugh, retail is
such
hell,” says Edward sympathetically. “I worked at Urban Outfitters when I first moved to New York, and it was the longest three months of my life. I nearly got fat because the only joy in my life was Dunkin’ Donuts. I am not even kidding.”

“Okay, so how about these?” asks Adrian, holding up some white jeans that will be six sizes too big for him.

I look over. “They’re good, but I’d recommend trying these and these, too. You never know the perfect fit till you’re in it, you know?”

“That is totally my motto in life,” deadpans Edward, and Adrian cracks up.

“Okay, boys, come with me.…”

Half an hour later, they’re both overjoyed. Adrian found four pairs of jeans that fit him perfectly, and Edward got jealous and started shopping, too, and has two pairs of pants and three blazers.

“It’s been so much fun helping you guys,” I say.

“I never knew I’d love it here so much!” says Edward joyfully. “The fit is totally amazing!”

“So much for coming to the Gap to save money,” says Adrian, combing worriedly through the price tags.

“Listen,” I say, lowering my voice, “I can get you fifty-percent off if you just hang around twenty minutes. It’s coming up on my break, so I’ll buy this stuff for you with my employee discount and meet you at the deli on the corner. Sound good?”

“Oh, honey, is that allowed?” Adrian makes an anguished face.

“He’s so naive! Of course it is,” hisses Edward. “We did it all the time at Urban Outfitters!”

“This feels wrong.…” says Adrian.

“No! It’s perfect! Angie, honeybun, we’ll see you at the deli on the corner in half an hour, okay?”

They head off, and I try to look busy until my break. Then I grab their clothes, head to the register, and flash my employee card.

That dickface Derek is behind the counter.

“This is for you?”

“Affirmative,” I say.

“Men’s clothes.”

“Yep. I’m going to customize them. Make a fabulous long patchwork denim skirt. It’ll be sister wife meets Amish wife. A sort of Utah-Pennsylvania hybrid.” I give him my smarmiest grin.

He remains uncharmed. “I don’t believe you. I think you’re buying this with your employee discount and selling it for a personal profit to those two men who were in here before.” He pauses dramatically. “You’re stealing from the Gap.”

“What?! I am not!” I’m genuinely shocked. I mean, yeah, I’m buying this stuff for someone else using my employee discount, but I wouldn’t even think about charging them and making money off it. I’m just doing them a favor! I’m bending the rules, not breaking them! “I’m not stealing! I swear to God! I’m not!”

Dickface Derek smiles, revealing very yellow teeth. “I think you are. I’ve called Shania.”

A moment later, Shania, my manager, walks over, flanked by two security guards.

I decide the best defense is offense. “This is outrageous! How dare you suggest I would sell these for a personal profit! I wouldn’t do that! How could you accuse me of that?”

She narrows her eyes. “We’ve had complaints about you from customers, so security has been keeping an eye on you. We were willing to overlook this the other day with your blond friend, but you were clearly cavorting with those two men today.”

She must mean Coco. And the complaints could only have come from Stef. Or his bitchy girlfriend, Blythe.

But
cavorting
? Sheesh.

“Shania, I promise,” I say, looking her right in the eye. “I swear I wasn’t going to sell them for a profit. I was just, I was trying to help them out—”

“By abusing your employee privileges,” she interrupts, with an evil little smile. “Angie, I’m going to have to let you go. Employee discount abuse is illegal. It’s theft. You’re a thief. I could have you arrested.”

“I am not!” I respond angrily, and they all just stare at me. Judging me. Ready—no,
wanting
—to believe the worst.

And that’s the moment I snap.

“I did nothing wrong! I didn’t! I swear! Fucking hell! I wasn’t stealing! What the fuck is with the universe? When the fuck am I gonna get a break? THIS IS BULLSHIT!”

CHAPTER
29

A few minutes later, I’m escorted off the premises.

I go straight to the deli to meet the guys, trying not to weep with shock and shame. I fight the tears back, and they all ball up in a lump in my throat. Ah, unshed tears. I wish I knew how to quit you. And of course it’s freezing cold, windy, and raining, which just increases my misery. The media has been talking about a superstorm all week, but ever since Hurricane Sandy, they like to freak out about the weather. A little rain does not equal a fucking hurricane, you know?

Edward and Adrian are waiting for me.

“Those bastards,” says Edward. “I’m totally boycotting them now. And I hate their ads.”

“I am so sorry,” Adrian keeps saying. “This is all my fault. I’m, like, your bad luck charm.”

“No, no, you’re not,” I say, my voice unnaturally high, the lump in my throat aching. “I hated working there anyway. I really did. But I just … I need money.” To try to fake the toughness I don’t feel inside, I take a cigarette out of the pack and prop it in my mouth. The perfect accessory to a bad mood. “I’m so fucked.”

“Angie!” Adrian claps his hands to get my attention. “First, come work at Rock Dog with me. Screw Gap! Rock Dog is totally fun, you can eat all day for free, and you could still job-hunt for something in fashion. They always let me have time off for auditions.”

“You’re an actor?”

“You think I’d waste a face this pretty on anything else? And second, I bet Edward can help you network. He’s a floral event designer for the biggest names in fashion! You know Donna Karan? Diane von Furstenberg? Candie Stokes?”

I look up. “That bitch?”

Edward cackles. “She is
such
a bitch! But she spends so much on flowers, it’s almost sinful. I’m, like, best friends with all her assistants now. They fucking hate her.”

“She was so mean to me.” I tell them about the day I talked to her in Starbucks and realized, to her, I was nothing, nobody.

My throat-lump dissolves into tears again. That feels like so long ago, and I still don’t have a job. I’ll never get a job. I really won’t. I look down, blinking hard to get the tears to go away.

“Well, good for you for trying, girl!” says Adrian. “Now, I have a piece of advice for you.” He takes a deep breath. “Never cry over anything that won’t cry over you.”

I smile, remembering that day, the bombshell Annabel dropped, everything that happened afterward.… God, that feels like so long ago. That was the moment that my life began spiraling out of control.

Oh, let’s face it. It’s never been in control.

“I know,” I say eventually. “I‘m just so tired of trying and failing. I’ll never get a job in fashion. Never. I’m … I’m nothing.”

“You are
never
nothing!” Adrian grabs both my hands. “Never, never say that! I’m deeply psychic, and I can tell that you’re very kind and honest and loyal and talented. Your future is bright, okay? You just need to hang on. Just hang on, keep trying, and everything will be okay.”

I really do start crying at this, but quickly pull myself together. Jeez, I hardly know these guys, but I can’t help it. I feel like I’ve been so close to crying for days, like I’m a cup full of tears and this was just the little prod I needed to tip over.…

“Sorry,” I say, wiping my face. “I’m such a loser. I can’t do anything right.”

“You are
not
. Just one break, that’s all you need,” adds Edward.

“I’ve been here since last summer!” I exclaim. “And I don’t want my life to be like this anymore. I’ve made too many mistakes here.… I want to start over.”

They look at each other and sigh.

“You can never start over,” says Edward.

“Never,” agrees Adrian. “No matter where you are, your problems follow you, so you may as well deal with them. Take it from a man who spent the first five years of his twenties running from city to city, looking for the meaning of life in empty hookups. God, I was such a little slut.”

“
Plus ça change,
” says Edward, raising his eyes to the ceiling.

“My tip? Hang on to your friends,” says Adrian dramatically. “The only thing that will give your life meaning is the people around you. Create a circle of support that will keep you afloat when you feel like you might drown. A life raft. That’s what your friends are. A life raft.”

“And remember, you may feel like no one will give you a chance right now, but your dream job is out there, so keep trying,” says Edward. “When you’re intellectually and creatively stimulated by your work, the world is a different place. You feel valued. And valuable. Not just in terms of money, but in terms of what you’re contributing to the universe.”

“Oh my God! Oscar speech! Goose bumps!” says Adrian.

I nod slowly. Everything he says makes sense. But I don’t know if I can keep trying.

Somehow, Adrian and Edward know I don’t want to talk about it anymore, and they start chatting about accessories for the Euro-trash party. (Loafers with snaffle-bits and fake tans.) I’m numb as their conversation washes over me.

I was just fired.

From the Gap.

The day before my twenty-third birthday.

Reality really does bite.

No matter how you cut it, this is rock bottom. After we finish our coffee, we exchange numbers and air-kisses, and I head for the subway.

On the way, I automatically take out my phone to call Sam. Weird, right? In just a few weeks he’s gone from being an annoying boat boy to being my go-to phone call after I get fired.… But I don’t want to hear about how the date with Julia went or how much he likes her. I just … I don’t want to hear it. It shouldn’t bug me, but it does.

Then, as I’m sitting on the subway back to Brooklyn, it hits me.

I’m not going to make it in this city. I’ll be chewed up and spit out like every other loser who tries to create a life here and doesn’t have what it takes. It’s obvious. It’s so obvious, I can’t believe I didn’t see it before now.

So why waste any more time?

Next thing you know, I’ll be in my late twenties, and then I’ll be fucking thirty. Thirty!

I don’t know what else is out there in the world, but I know it’s got to be better than getting fired from the Gap and living in Brooklyn where everyone I know is happy, in love, and going somewhere with their lives.

Tonight, I’ll see Gabriel, just so I can get out of Rookhaven and avoid everyone for one more night.

And to celebrate my birthday tomorrow, I’ll book a flight to L.A. I know people there from college; I can crash with them until I get a job. They have the Gap there, right? (That’s a joke.) (Kind of.)

And I know what you’re thinking. But I’m not running away.

I’m moving on.

CHAPTER
30

“See? Best hot dog in the city,” I say. “It’s a New York classic.”

Gabriel takes a tiny bite of his hot dog and chews like it might have thorns.

“This is not good.” He looks around for a napkin, spits his half-chewed hot dog into it. “Not. Good.”

We’re at Gray’s Papaya, a legendary hot dog joint, on the corner of Sixth Avenue and Eighth Street in Manhattan. You can’t really sit down here, which means that when we finish our hot dogs in about five bites, this will have been the fastest date in the history of dates. I think that might be a good thing. Gabriel is not quite the guy I remember, and tonight might not be the easy killing-time exercise I thought it would. Gabriel is acting all sorts of precious. He could barely contain his horror when he saw where we were eating and keeps grabbing paper napkins to wipe everything down before he touches it. I mean … grow a pair.

Worse? Outside there is torrential rain. Not April showers, but dude-where’s-my-ark rain. The kind of rain that makes you want to hide in a dark bar and drink wine and eat cheese and then have crazy dreams all night. But I’m not on a red-wine-and-cheese budget. I’m on a hot-dog-and-papaya-juice budget. So here we are.

And I’m just here for the food. I made it clear to Gabriel this wouldn’t be the start of anything romantic or sexual or whatever, plus I’m wearing flats, so it’s clearly not a
date
-date. I’m obviously not capable of having a functional relationship, just like I’m not capable of having a functional career. Fuck. What am I going to do with my life?

“What’s the deal with the papaya juice?” says Gabriel. He pronounces it “pappa-yah.”

“Pa-PIE-ya,” I correct him. “It’s traditional to have it with hot dogs. I don’t know why.” I take another bite. God, I love hot dogs. “You didn’t put mustard on it,” I say. “That’s your problem.”

“The mustard is not my problem,” says Gabriel. “The hot dog is my problem.” He looks so serious that I crack up.

Gabriel waits for me to stop giggling, pouting slightly. He doesn’t have much of a sense of humor.

“Sorry,” I say finally. “Sorry. I know. The mustard is not your problem.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” says Gabriel, throwing his hot dog-filled napkin down. “I take charge now. We go to Minetta Tavern.”

“You don’t like the dog?”

“I don’t like the dog.” How to piss off a European dude: don’t take dinner seriously. “I want wine and steak and a chair on which to sit.
Sí?
”

“Sí, señor.”

“You, stay here.”

Gabriel pulls out a mammoth black umbrella and goes to hail a taxi while I wait inside. I think he might be a control freak. He tucked a napkin into his shirt to protect it from ketchup, and then tried to get me to do the same. Um, no. I’m pretty good at not getting food on my clothes since I stopped being able to afford dry-cleaning.