Manhattan Dreaming (15 page)

‘We're going to a bar called the Australian tonight,' Kirsten advised.

‘The Australian?' I had heard about it from Libby, who was deadset against going to Aussie bars overseas. ‘But we're in New York. I'd really like to check out a local bar and meet some New Yorkers, if that's possible.' I didn't want to sound ungrateful or pushy but it was, after all, my first Saturday night in Manhattan.

Kirsten smiled and put her hand on mine as if to reassure me.

‘Of course! The bar is full of New Yorkers who love Australians, that's why I go there, and for the Aussie food I miss.'

‘And
I
go there because the guys love Kirsten's Aussie accent,' Vikki said. ‘With both of you it's going to be double the fun.'

‘I'm not really convinced that my first Saturday night in New York should be spent in an Australian bar. My tidda Libby would have something to say about it.'

‘I promise you'll love it. The owner used to play rugby league in Sydney – he's friendly and the place is fun.'

Kirsten had said the magic words ‘rugby league', which equalled Canberra Cockatoos and Adam. I suddenly sat up straighter and felt a rush of adrenalin.

‘It sounds great, can't wait.' I couldn't drink my club soda fast enough.

It was a balmy night outside and there were masses of people in the streets, with music coming from bars and restaurants. We sauntered along 7th Avenue towards 38th Street and I thought of the girls from
Sex and the City.
I wondered if they ever went to the Australian. I upped my pace – the sooner we got to the bar, the sooner I could speak to the owner and the sooner I could get some real information about Adam.

‘You've got it all going on, Lauren,' Vikki complimented me.

‘Sorry. Is that another New Yorker phrase I need to learn?'

‘Haven't you seen men checking you out? Jesus, I already had a good batting average but you've just raised it. Where did you find this sista?' she said to Kirsten.

‘Koori grapevine, you know how it is.'

‘Well, whoever said men don't make passes at women with glasses had never seen Lauren in Manhattan. I'm glad I've got you as a roomie.'

Vikki hooked arms with me and then grabbed Kirsten as well and we walked in time together. ‘I might have to get myself some glasses too then, cos if nothing else, they'll help me see better what I'm getting in a dude,' Vikki said, matter-of-factly.

‘And you can match your frames with your lipstick, bag and shoes,' I said, holding my red bag up to my face to show my coordination.

Just as we got to 38th Street two teenage guys at the lights called out, ‘You ladies are hot!'

‘And you fellas are cheeky,' I said, like an ageing aunty.

‘What did you say?'

‘Yeah, that accent is mad.'

‘She's Australian,' Vikki said proudly.

‘I'm going to Oztraylya then, if all the chicks talk like that.' One fella put his hand across his heart to demonstrate his affection for the girls' accent.

‘C'mon, let's go,' Kirsten said, dragging us away.

‘That
never
happens back in Canberra, guys talking to you on the street like that, not when they're sober.'

Kirsten spun around like a child enjoying a new space. ‘And this is why I love Manhattan, Lauren. There are plenty of men here and most of them actually
like
women
and
they know how to flirt
and
they like to go on dates. And they're not tainted by stereotypes of Aboriginal people from the media. Hell, most don't even know there's Blackfellas in Australia. Here we're just women, people.'

‘Wow, that is different. I hate being the exotic other back home.' I thought about Adam's comment only weeks previous.

‘And Ms V – she's the dating queen, really. She's dating three guys right now.'

‘What?'

‘She is! I know – greedy, isn't it.'

Vikki stopped in her tracks and feigned shock. ‘It's not greedy, it's great. I haven't been to Australia, but Kirsten tells me lots of stories about how you don't really date much down under.'

Linking her arm through Vikki's again and starting to walk, Kirsten said, ‘Generally, you're single and maybe hook up with someone when you go out, or you're in a relationship, but you don't really hear about people just going on dates for fun. There's always the expectation of something more – sex or a relationship, I guess.'

‘See? It's different here. Lots of people date and it's normal,' Kirsten said.

‘Look, you just need to know there's a hierarchy,' Vikki said.

‘What? A flirting hierarchy?'

‘A flirting and dating hierarchy, yes. You can't just talk to
everyone
. You don't flirt with or date the doorman, the barman or the waiter. And if you
have
to, then the doorman is the top of the hierarchy because at least he can get you into a venue. The barman is next because he might give you some free drinks. But never the waiter.'

‘That's appalling. I thought everyone was equal in America.'

‘This is Manhattan, and no-one is equal, girl.'

‘It doesn't matter, anyway, because I'm not really here to date. I've kind of put my relationship on hold, sort of, to come here, so I'm not really looking.'

Kirsten smiled at me sympathetically.

‘The plan is' – and I began to stretch the truth slightly – ‘that my boyfriend, Adam, will come to New York in a few months' time, and we'll meet up the top of the Empire State Building. I know it's a bit clichéd but it's also very romantic.'

‘Very romantic, but I'd suggest meeting up the Top of the Rock – you know, the Rockefeller Center? The building itself is much nicer and it's a far more romantic place to sit and gaze at each other,' Vikki said.

‘Trust her, she'd know,' Kirsten said.

‘Adam plays football – for the Canberra Cockatoos – so we'll have to wait until the season is over.' I was grateful for the opportunity to talk about Adam freely, without being judged or tsk tsk'd.

Vikki took some gum out of her bag. ‘All I can say is that your boyfriend was brave letting you come here to New York alone. Didn't anyone tell him this is the dating capital of the world?' she said as she unwrapped a piece and stuck it in her mouth.

‘Yes,
I
did, but I'm sure he trusts me.'

‘One night I counted six men –
six men –
smile or wink at me as I walked from the office to Grand Central Terminal.' Kirsten was animated. ‘Of course it's not the only reason, but it's one of the reasons I don't think I can ever go back to Australia. Our men would never get a date here, because none of them ever have to put the effort in back home. Here, dating's like a game, fun. Men still like the hunt in America.'

We walked into the Australian and the girls started saying hello and kissing everyone. It was good to be in a place that felt familiar. There were Aussie beers on tap, ‘Hey Mate' written on the blackboard above the bar, Diesel playing in the background, the Australian flag flying. I stopped still when I saw football on the television screens – AFL, Union and League games – and my heart started to race. I looked for the red, black and yellow colours of the Canberra Cockatoos but didn't see them.

‘This is Matt,' Kirsten said, dragging the owner of the bar over to our table. He was tall, blonde and had a baby-face with a warm smile. He looked like a friendly guy without having done anything. He was wearing a baseball cap but I didn't know the team. ‘Matt, this is Lauren. She's the top Aboriginal curator in Australia and has been poached by the NMAI for twelve months, and we're showing her the Saturday night sites of Manhattan. We had to bring her here to be initiated, of course.'

‘Wow, that's impressive – your career that is, not Saturday night in Manhattan.' Matt was a bit of a joker. ‘Welcome to the Australian,' he said, smiling. ‘Let me buy you girls a drink. Let me guess … a Fizzy Lizard for you, Kirsten?'

Kirsten perched herself comfortably on the bar stool. ‘You better believe it,' she told him, then turned to me. ‘It's made with Midori, triple sex, oops, triple
sec
and orange juice. It's to die for. You should have one.'

‘Hold up, K!' Matt touched Kirsten lightly on the arm. ‘You know the official Australian welcome drink is the Australian cosmo, otherwise known as the
Ozmo
.'

Kirsten nodded her head in agreement. ‘You're absolutely right, my apologies.'

I clapped my hands like a child in a lolly shop. ‘Ozmo, I love the name, what's in it?'

‘Absolut Mandarin and fresh orange zest,' Matt said.

‘I'll have one too, Matt,' Vikki said. Matt saluted her and walked towards the bar.

‘He seems nice,' I said to the girls.

‘He is, always looks after Aussies and I always bring Blackfellas here. He used to play for the Nambucca Ninjas and knows most of the Koori players. Turns out he went to school with my cousin Marty who plays for the Coffs Crusaders. All the players come here when they're in town. He'll probably know your fella too.'

Matt came back with the drinks.

‘Lauren's from Goulburn and her man plays for the Canberra Cockatoos, Matt.'

‘Really, what position? I bet I can guess his name.'

‘He's a forward.'

‘Forwards … right.' Matt was thinking. ‘Is it Ben Wallace?'

‘No, not him.'

‘Is it Darren Holloway? Good ol' Dazza, he's a top bloke.'

‘No, not him,' I blurted. ‘It's Adam Fuller.'

‘Really?' Matt looked surprised. ‘Ol' mate Fullofhimself?'

The girls looked at Matt and then me.

‘Oh, I'm sorry, that's just what the boys call him.'

‘That's okay, I hear it all the time. My girlfriend Libby calls him that too,' I said, trying to hide my embarrassment. Even on the other side of the world people didn't seem to like Adam.

‘Adam's a great player.'

‘Yes, he is,' I said proudly.

‘And you're dating him?' Matt sought confirmation.

‘Yes, why?'

‘Nothing.' Matt looked like he didn't really believe me.

‘Come on, why?' I grabbed him by the shirt sleeve gently but immediately let go.

‘Come on, you two. There's more to-ing and fro-ing here than at the US Open,' Vikki said curiously.

Matt fiddled with his cap nervously.

‘You just seem too classy for him, I mean, from what I see about him in the papers. I thought he was the bad boy of football, but if he's got a woman like you, then he must be all right, eh?'

Even in Manhattan they knew about Adam's off-field behaviour. I stared at my drink.

Matt had an embarrassed look on his face.

‘I'm sorry, it's just that I read the sporting pages online every day, so kinda know what's going on. But you can't believe everything you read, can you.' Matt started to sound like Adam.

‘No, you can't.'

‘Anyways, he's mad for letting you come to New York.'

‘That's what I told her,' Vikki said, sipping her Ozmo.

‘For starters, I can tell you now that Hunter over there at the bar is going to be all over you in five seconds flat. Be careful, Hunter by name and hunter by nature. And you are way too classy for him as well. Take that as a warning. You've gotta keep an eye on him.'

Matt walked away as the girls started chatting to some guys at the next table.

‘I'm just going to the toilet,' I whispered in Vikki's ear.

‘Restroom or bathroom,' she said with a wink.

‘What?'

‘No-one says toilet here, we say washroom or bathroom. Vikki's Vernacular Course 101 starts tonight.'

‘Thanks.' The Americans were strange. I wasn't having a bath or a wash. Downstairs in the toilet I logged onto MySpace straight away. His status read:
Adam Fuller is too sexy for his shirt
and his profile song was ‘I'm Too Sexy' by Right Said Fred. I started to cry. I was homesick, I was humiliated, and already I knew I would have a hangover in the morning from just one Ozmo.

My night was ruined before it had started, and it was my own fault. Why did I talk about Adam to Matt? Why did I bother looking at his page? It only ever upset me. I looked in the mirror and thought about my mum. She would have been so disappointed to see me in this state, after all it took to get me through school and uni and then to New York. ‘I didn't raise you to be treated badly by men who are not worthy,' she said when I broke up with my first boyfriend at eighteen. I dabbed a tissue gently around my eyes so as not to smudge my make-up, touched up my lip gloss, and remembered Matt's words.
You are too classy for him.
I said out loud, ‘That's enough. No more talking about him, no more mentioning his name.' My first Saturday night in Manhattan was the first day of the rest of my life. I could do it. Yes I could!

‘Lauren!' The girls waved me over to the restaurant area as I reached the top of the stairs. I took a deep breath, sat down with them and took a sip of my Ozmo. I could see how some people got lost in the bottom of a martini or schooner glass; it would be an easy thing to do if you were feeling depressed. With Powderfinger playing in the background, though, and the girls full of Saturday night energy, I felt my spirits lifting, and when I read the menu I smiled. ‘Wow, at least I won't get homesick for the food – Aussie meat pies, Aussie burgers, Aussie lamb roasts, kangaroo fillet mignon, roo skewers and wines. This place is like home.'

‘I'm having Aussie nachos,' Kirsten said.

And then I saw it. ‘I'm having the pavlova with kiwifruit.' I felt immediate relief just thinking about the meringue and cream.