6The internship my parents lined up for me was in the basement of the Rockerfeller center. I know, I should have been excited. I was living the dream of many- working in New York, seeing the skyline every day (working in one of the most prominent buildings that scraped the sky). But instead I was bored. It had only been two days at my new job, and it seemed as though all I was doing was making runs from the building starbucks to respective offices and (occasionally) making copies. Usually I sat at my desk and played games on my phone and wished that I remembered my facebook password so that I could message Jamie.
It was on the third day that my cell phone rang with an unrecognizable number. My heart leapt in my throat. Could it be him? Could it be my-
"Hello?" I asked.
"Nikki. It's Tara, I'm on my home phone," she says. I sigh, and she hears it. "Jesus, don't sound so excited to hear from me."
"No, I am, it's just-"
"You thought I was your boy toy calling. I get it. You realize that your parents probably blocked his number before they deleted it, right?"
"Uh... no. I didn't," I said. I doodled something on my desk in led and rubbed it away. "So what's up?"
"Let's go into the city on Saturday. There's someone I want you to meet."
Just like that, she hung up. I remembered Joey's whispered gossip about Tara's boyfriend. I wondered if maybe I was going to get to see the man my cousin's wife was committing adultery with. Honestly, I hated myself for being a little excited. Hell, it would be the first interesting thing (other than meeting Joey) that happened all night.
Tara came to pick me up in her blue coupe, her dark hair wound behind her head in a tight braid. She wore a blue sundress that clung tightly to her body in just the right amount of slutty and classy (something every girl wants to achieve) and wedges that made her a good five inches taller than she already was. For an already imposing woman, this only served to heighten her frightening factor.
"Really?" her voice had barely-concealed disgust. "You're wearing that?"
I looked down at my khaki shorts and tank top. I wore nice, gladiator sandals from Urban Outfitters. They were over one hundred dollars. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"
Tara smiled a tight, fake smile. One that I realized was more frequent than her genuine one (now that I thought about it, I'd never seen it). "Nothing. Let's get going."
I climbed into her car. The insides were rich- dark leather seats, a blue light that highlighted everything within the car. A sneaky back seat that was perfect for a couple to curl up in. The radio was the newest version I'd ever seen, and I think there may have been a massage feature on the seats. I was reminded again that to Danny and Tara, I was poor.
The car drove like we were floating three inches over the pavement. I didn't feel a single bump or scratch. It was light and so easy to ride and enjoy and forget that we were even driving anywhere.
It didn't take very long before we pulled up to a two-storied gas station. It was decrepit, nearly abandoned, and the pavement was cracked and sun burnt. When the car rolled to a stop, I saw Tara slide the wedding ring off of her finger. She rose from the seat and motioned for me to do the same. Confused, I walked inside with her. The little bell was too rusted to make a single noise.
"George?" Tara called into the bare store. A small, blonde head peaked over the counter. It was an older man, in his thirties or fourties. It was hard to tell, for he had one of those timeless faces that could land at any age and still make sense. He was handsome in a delicate, wispy way, as if one gust would blow him into the sky. His eyes were big and blue and they blinked dumbly at me before flickering to Tara.
"H-hi, Mrs.-"
"I've told you, call me Tara."
"George," a deep, male voice said from the winding staircase in the back. "Why don't you get some chairs so somebody can sit down?"
Tara and I both turned to see a man whose hair was beginning to gray. Despite this, he stood tall and lean and strong and handsome. It was astonishing to see such a handsome face in such a disgusting setting.
As the man approached, Tara leaned into him. I could hear her say, "Get out of here. Meet me at your apartment."
He winked at her and said, "Will do, sugar." He then turned to George. "I've got to go to the city and visit my brother."
"Again?" George protested. "But you just went yesterday-"
"He's in a bad place right now. Awful break up. And he just got a dog. He needs me," he says before leaving the store. Unseen by George, the man goes into the back seat of Tara's car.
"What can I get for you today Mrs Tara?"
"Nothing," she says, forcing that smile again. "Just wanted to drop in and say hi. So... hi. Now, bye."
She turns and leaves. A single lock of brown falls around her chin and blows once the summer wind knocks into her. Her dress billows around her calves and I know that Danny's wife is trouble in the form of a young woman. She turns to look at me, still holding the door. Her carefully-tanned fingers tremble, as if they're repulsed by the dirt.
"Well, are you coming, Nikki?"
I didn't know that Tara was bringing me to a party. There were six of us there, Tara and the gas station man (whose name, I learned, was Maurice), gas-station man's brother, Christophe, and two others who just kinda… showed up. Jackie and Matty McKee.
Within a few minutes of everyone's arrival, Tara had given me an explanation of sorts. "Maurice and George are married," she laughs. "But I told Danny that homos weren't real! I mean, look! I fucked the faggot right out of Maurice. And he's turned out just fine."
"Um..." I thought of my tendencies to find both genders attractive. "Are you sure he's not just bisexual? Or pan?"
She'd just laughed and wandered off spewing her toxic opinions.
The others had all taken some pill—ecstasy, I was pretty sure—and were buzzing about the room like fireflies. Tara and Maurice had disappeared into an adjoining room and I could hear the creaking of the bed and their giggles. Maurice's (admittedly attractive) brother was sitting a little too close to me. He spoke to the other two in a surprisingly high voice with the hint of a French accent.
"Well, I was at this party the other night," Jackie was saying, hanging off of her photographer husband. "it was wild! Nearly as wild as this one."
"Oh, was it at G's?" Christophe asked, as if this was regular lingo.
Confused, I asked, "G? As in Jayden G—"
"Yes, obviously," Matty waved me away and his wife continued the conversation with Christophe. I listened with barely concealed disinterest until I heard 'G's name brought up again.
"I heard that she's a Russian spy. Or that she's working for Isis—I don't remember which."
"I heard that she's Prince Harry's secret girlfriend. Or his cousin…"
"I heard she killed a man for giving her the wrong drink at a bar!"
It seemed that no one knew the truth of my mysterious neighbor. My phone began to buzz in my hand; it was another mysterious number. Curious, I picked it up and excused myself to go out on the terrace.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Nikki, right?" It was a low, sultry voice. One belonging to a man who crooned his way into millions of young girls' hearts.
"Yeah. Joey? What can I do for you?"
"Nothing. Danny just asked me to call you so that you could have my number."
Just like that, he hung up.
I was equally confused and excited. I was offended and tingly.
How many girls could say they've been called by Joseph Baker?
Please feel free to review! Getting an alert motivates me so much :D
For those of you following Unexpected and Letters to Him, I AM WORKING ON AN UPDATE. I promise! Just suffering from extreme writer's block. I'm fighting it, though. I promise :)
I also began another story! (I know, I should probably finish the ones i've already started first...) It's similar to this one, in a way. But at the same time, not at all. It's called Bella and Connor! Check it out!