ONCE UPON A NEW YORK MINUTE
Copyright © 2018 Sherry D. Ficklin
All rights reserved.
THIS book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
NO part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Table of Contents
Lady In Waiting
The End Of The World As We Know It
Lady Of The River
This Kiss
Two Months Later
Leaving On A Jet Plane
Fit For A King
Dance Lessons
Truly Forked
Coronation Day
A Day In The Sun
King Aiden
Heartbreak Warfare
Date With The King
The Other Shoe Drops
House Hunting with Liam
An Offer She Can’t Refuse
Coming Clean
Media Storm
The Whole Truth
Off To The Races
Special Delivery
Trouble In Paradise
Kidnapped
Book 2
About the Author
Lady in Waiting
The restaurant is quieter than normal, only the jukebox on the corner echoing sound through the room. It’s late--even the regulars have mostly gone--but I still have an hour on shift, an hour before I can escape to my small apartment overlooking the river and soak my tired legs. There’re three guys in the bar area, sitting in a corner booth enjoying their third pitcher of beer. They’re young enough that I had a hard look at their ID’s before serving them, and while they are clearly on their way to a hangover, at least they aren’t being obnoxiously loud.
Yet.
In the distance the train rumbles across the track, shaking the pictures on the walls gently. I hear the new group of guys before I see them, turning the corner and opening the door with a jingle.
“You still open?” one of them asks, peeking his head inside.
“Twenty-four hours,” I tell him with a forced smile. “Come on in.”
There’s three of them, though they are expecting one more, and I set them at a table by the jukebox.
“What’s good?” One of them asks as he casually glances over the cheap plastic menu.
“To eat or drink?”
“Both.”
“The pie’s good. Just baked it today. As for the drink, how about I surprise you?”
One side of his mouth lifts in a lopsided grin. “You’re on. Five pies, and three drinks—for now. Your choice.”
I eye each of the men in turn. The one ordering seems relaxed, eager even, despite wearing a watch worth more than my kidneys and a sweater vest that makes me think he may, in fact, still be a virgin, and the other two are busy looking around the room in barely concealed disgust.
Making my way to the bar, I put in the drink order then set about plating up the cherry pie.
The door jingles again, but a quick glance over my shoulder tells it the last of the group, so I don’t rush. Finally, on one large tray, I balance all the pies and drinks and make my way over.
As I deliver the pies, I see the latecomers for the first time and I have to force myself not to stare. They’re both painfully handsome, though in vastly different ways. One has short, spikey hair with what looks to be naturally blonde highlights. His square jaw and five o’clock shadow give him a rugged look that’s exacerbated by the way his shirt sleeves are casually rolled up to the elbow exposing his forearms. He blinks up at me with green eyes and winks in a way that manages to be more friendly than creepy—no small feat.
The other is tall, even sitting down, with jet black hair and dark eyes, a long sloping nose and thin face. Probably Asian, though I couldn’t begin to guess at the region. He’s in a white shirt with a grey vest over top, the sleeves of his shirt rolled also up to the elbows.
Tall, dark, and handsome. That magical combination that’s tricked smart girls into making dumb choices since the dawn of time.
I hand off the pies, then the drinks.
“Two gin and tonic and a sex on the beach.”
The guy in the sweater takes a sip and grins appreciatively.
“She nailed it,” one of the guys says to another.
I point to the new guys, “Let me guess, bourbon, neat?”
“Witchcraft,” Bourbon guy says, but nods.
“Never doubt a waitress in Hells’ Kitchen,” I tell him, returning his earlier wink. “What about you? You feeling brave?”
The dark-haired guy looks at me for a moment, his eyes sweeping over me in a mix of curiosity and amusement as the corners of his mouth turn up in a slight grin that makes my IQ drop three points. “Why not?”
Shaking off the dumb, I make my way to the bar again, this time returning with the bourbon and a large glass of chocolate milk which I set in front of him.
The others laugh, but he gives me the oddest look before taking a long drink.
“Thanks,” he says, smiling.
“Anytime.”
I make my way back to the bar where Jerry, the middle-aged bartender slides over to me.
“If you wanna take off early I can handle these tables till June gets in.”
I glance back at the guys, then shake my head. “Nah. I’ve got a good feeling about this one. Big tippers,” I saw wagging my eyebrows.
He wrinkles his nose, “I dunno, Haven. They seem…prissy.”
“Exactly,” I offer. “I’m pretty sure their shoes alone are worth more than my entire college tuition.”
“If you say so,” he says with a reluctant grin. “Go ahead and grab the shakers for me so I can get them filled.”
I salute him, then grab a small tray and start clearing the salt and pepper off the empty tables.
This is what I’m doing when one of the young guys from the other table comes up behind me. I smell him before I see him, stale beer and cheap body spray.
“Hey, if you wanna have some fun, you can meet up with us later,” he whispers, grabbing a handful of my ass.
I move so quickly he doesn’t have a chance to respond. I’ve got his arm, twisted it behind his back, and slammed his face onto the table before Jerry even looks up from his newspaper.
“Grab me again and you’ll be eating your next meal through a straw, got it?”
“Ow, got it. Ok I get it.”
I release him and he hops away, holding his wrist. “Jesus Christ, you crazy bitch.”
“All right, get out,” Jerry says, rounding the bar with a baseball bat in hand.
They mutter and make rude gestures all the way out the door and Jerry locks it behind them.
“Sorry about that, fellas,” he tells my table.
“Perks of the job,” I say with a shrug and return to my task.
Sweater guys whistles. “Wow, you laid that guy out.”
I turn to them, and they are all staring at me with expressions of surprise.
I tilt my head to the side, apprising them again. “It’s a tough part of town, which is why I gotta ask, what brings you guys down here? No offence, this doesn’t seem like your kinda place.”
“Oh? And what is our kind of place?” Tall, dark, and handsome asks, sliding a chair out for me
.
I take a seat, “The kind of place where people call you sir and they have steaks instead of burgers and crème brulee instead of pie.”
One of the gin guys leans forward, “Is there a place like that near here?”
Bourbon guy chuckles, “Where is your sense of adventure, Rory?”
He sits back pouting, “Probably somewhere that’s not going to require a tetanus shot after visiting.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. So why are you here?” I ask again.
“It’s my friend’s going away party,” the handsome one says. “Our last day in New York.”
“Oh?” I ask.
“He’s going home to…take over the family business.”
“I’ve been in school up north. My good buddy Liam here convinced me to have one last night of fun before we leave,” Bourbon guy says.
“And you decided to come here?” I laugh.
Sweater vest guy chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, “Well, we got a little turned around on the subway.”
“What Tommy means is that he got us lost. I’m Aiden, by the way.”
He holds out a hand and I shake it.
“Nice to meet you. Have any of you been to Manhattan before?”
They exchange an uncomfortable glance.
“Admittedly, we have not,” Liam says.
“Oh. No, that’s not ok. I can’t possibly let this be your lasting impression of my city. Tell you what. You guys finish your pie, I’ll cut my shift a little early, and I’ll take you somewhere you won’t forget. How about it?”
“I couldn’t possibly,” Liam begins only to be interrupted by Aiden.
“What he means is thank you.”
The group exchange another strange glance and sweater vest Tommy chuckles under his breath, fiddling with the umbrella from his drink.
“How do we know you aren’t going to take us somewhere and rob us?” one of the gin twins asks.
“Seriously?” Aiden says, shooting him a withering look. “You’re an idiot.” Then he turns back to me. “Actually,” he continues, “I have to get back to the hotel soon, but maybe you’d be willing to show Aiden around the city for a bit? At least one of us should have some fun.”
“That’s not—” one of the gin guys tries to cut in but Aiden shoots him a look and he snaps his mouth closed.
“Ignore Kato,” Tommy says. “Everyone else does.”
Kato frowns, but sits back, folding his arms across his broad chest.
“Unless you don’t want to,” Liam interjects. “I understand if you’re uncomfortable wandering the city alone with some strange man.”
“Are you?” I ask, raising one eyebrow. “A strange man that is?”
“You have no idea,” Tommy says, taking a drink just as Aiden smacks him with the back of his hand.
“Liam is a paragon of virtue,” Aiden swears, raising a hand. “I personally guarantee that he won’t try to rob you.”
I snort. As if that’s what I’m worried about.
“I can take care of myself.”
Liam grins, “So we’ve witnessed.”
“I’m Haven,” I say, reaching out to shake Liam’s hand.
“A-nd I’m Liam,” he says, nearly tripping over the words as he takes my cool hand in his.
“Welcome to New York City.”
The End of The World As We Know It
The night air is crisp, the kind you only get in late spring. Yesterday’s rain has washed away the ever-present odor of city and ozone and replaced it with something much cleaner. As I wait, Liam says goodbye to his friends and strides over to meet me. We walk shoulder to shoulder beneath the glowing streetlights as I maneuver us toward the train. After a minute, he speaks.
“I have to ask, why chocolate milk?”
I shake my head, “Because you’re the responsible one, right? The one who doesn’t step put of line or let his hair down?”
“I feel like I should be offended,” he says with a knee-buckling grin.
“Don’t be. I’m good at reading people. And being reliable isn’t a bad quality. I think that’s why I offered to show you around. You strike me as a man who always holds the world on his shoulders, and is in desperate need of a little fun.”
“You do this sort of thing often? Take pity on wayward strangers?”
“Never,” I tell him honestly. “Mostly, people make me nervous.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
I swallow, my mind scrambling to come up with an answer that doesn’t dump all my shit baggage on him. “Like I said, I’m good at reading people. Most of the time…people always want something from you, you know?”
“I do in fact,” he says with a nod.
“So, the less you let people in, the less chance you’ll disappoint them, or vice versa.”
“Sounds kind of lonely.”
I swallow before I speak again.
“Tell me something, Liam. If you could be anywhere right now, doing anything at all, what would it be?”
“Oh, I’m boring. I’d be somewhere quiet, probably reading a book or listening to a record.”
“Vinyl?”
“Of course,” he says as if it’s a given.
“Artist?” I press.
“Classic rock. Maybe The Rolling Stones or something like that.”
“The last book you read?”
“The Art of War.”
I grimace, “Heavy stuff.”
“It was required for one of my classes.”
“What’s your major? Wait, let me guess…history. You’ve got a professor vibe going.”
He shakes head. “Political Science. Yours?”
“Who said I was in school?” I ask, side stepping a hole in the sidewalk.
“No one,” he offers. “I was just taking a swing.”
“It was a hit. I’ve been studying Computer Science at the community college.” I watch him carefully. Most people have some automatic judgement of community college students, and I search his expression for any hint of that. There’s nothing but a sincere, breath stealing smile.
“Do I have something on my face?” he asks, wiping at his chin self-consciously.
I feel the blush rise to my cheeks, “No, I was just staring at you because I think you’re cute.”
He presses a heart to his chest in mock agony, “Ugh. Cute? Is that the best you can do?”
With a shrug, I take hold of his arm, “Hey, don’t knock cute. Cute is good. I’m just trying to decide if the contents match the packaging.”
“What’s your gut telling you?” he challenges.
“My gut is telling me that there’s more to you than meets the eye,” I admit. “Color me cautiously optimistic.”
“I’ll take that. So where are we going?” he asks, jerking his head toward the street ahead.
“Depends. How long do you have in the city?”
“My flight leaves tomorrow at ten in the morning.”
I look at my watch. It’s almost three in the morning. “Ten as in ten today?”
“No, as in ten tomorrow. Why?”
“Because, Liam, we don’t have much time.”
“Time for what?” he asks, leaning so close that I can smell the fresh, blue water smell of his cologne.
There it is again, the feel of my good sense about to take a nose dive off a cliff.
“I have a few ideas,” I grin. “Nothing weird. But stuff you should do before you leave. You game?”
He glances past me to the empty street ahead. “I don’t know. I probably shouldn’t be gone too long. My friends might worry.”
“I think they’d understand. I mean, Aiden practically offered your hand in marriage.”
“Yeah, he’s good that way,” he says, clearly still debating.
Loyalty. It’s a rare quality in guys anymore, and I can’t help feeling a tinge impressed.
I make a cross my heart gesture. “I promise to have you home before you turn into a pumpkin.”
Sh
aking his head, he smiles. “Am I the princess in this scenario?”
“As I recall, Cinderella never wanted to be a princess. She wanted a night off and a dress. But I’m willing to play fairy godmother just this once.”
Stopping, he turns to me, his expression serious. “I only have one rule for tonight.”
“Oh?” I say, wondering what that could possibly be.
“Yes. You can’t kiss me. No matter how much you might want to. It is strictly forbidden. Wouldn’t want things to get weird.”
I look at him and he cracks a wicked grin. It’s guy code. His subtle way of telling me not to get attached. He’s not sticking around.
“Oh, yes, well I suppose I’ll just have to restrain myself.”
“I’m not some cheap floozy,” he adds as we begin walking again. “You can’t just feed me pie and expect me to put out.”
“No one says floozy anymore,” I correct him. “And I can tell by your shoes that you aren’t cheap.”
He narrows his eyes, “You are observant.”
“Annoyingly so, you’ll find. Also very persuasive. But I get it, you’re on the clock. And as for putting out, let’s table that for now, shall we?”
With a laugh, he grabs me. Slinging me across his back in a fireman’s carry, he twists side to side.
“Which way my Lady?”
“Head south for Fullerton Station.” I point him in the right direction.
“What’s at Fullerton Station?”
“Oh, there’s someone I think you should meet.”
He swings me down and back onto my feet. Taking my cell from my pocket, I shoot a quick text to my roommate and then stow it away.
“But first,” I grab him by the hand, dragging him into a small hole in the wall pizza place.
“Two slices, please.”
I grab my wallet to pay but Liam already has a few bills in his hand and he slaps them on the glass counter.
Taking out paper plates dripping with grease, we head back onto the sidewalk, slowly ambling to the next stop.
“This is amazing,” he says around massive bites. Grease drops down his chin and he struggles to wipe at it without dropping the plate.
Taking pity on him I wad up my own napkin and attack the mess before it can leak onto his nice shirt.
“Here, like this.” I roll the slice like a taco and take a bite, then let the grease drip onto the plate.
Once Upon A New York Minute: Part 1 Page 1
