The NYCE Girls!

by Raquel Belle

  In the hotel room, I immediately start rifling through my small suitcase. It’s a bizarre mix of summer dresses and a few fancier gowns meant for wedding events, like the rehearsal dinner. Everything seems formal and family-friendly. Nothing screams take me now—which is exactly what I’m screaming, internally, when I think of Jason’s muscles.

  Frustrated, I plop down on the floor of the hotel room. Okay, get it together, Cara. You’re a big city attorney. You’ve stood in front of the scariest judges and courtrooms full of people. You can manage to get ready for one date. I’ll start by taking a shower. Let’s take this one step at a time.

  As I scramble to my feet, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and am ready to throw in the towel right then and there. My hair has gotten frizzy in the humidity, my cheeks are red from the heat outside and the frustration of not having an outfit, and my dress has a stain on the front—I vaguely flash back to that drop of mayonnaise that landed on my dress while I was chowing down on that lobster roll. I’m a mess.

  Just then my phone gives a chirp. I snatch it out of my bag and see that Beth is video calling me. Perfect timing.

  “Hey!” I pick up.

  “Hey lovely, getting ready for the hot date?”

  “Uhhh, trying to… Not having a lot of success.”

  “What’s up? You look stressed.”

  “I just packed wedding stuff, you know? I don’t have anything sexy to wear.”

  “What about the dress you have on now?”

  “It’s all sweaty and I got a stain on it when I was pigging out on a lobster roll earlier today.”

  “Mmm, yum.”

  “Yeah and then I got my nails done and they look great but the manicurist was asking if I had a boyfriend and stuff and, I don’t know, I just felt shitty and insecure. And I’m happy for Laura, of course I am, she’s my baby sister! But it feels weird to see her get married and I’m not even here with a date and—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Deep breath. Calm down.”

  I notice that my hand, holding the phone, is shaking ever so slightly. With a sigh, I plop down on the plush hotel bed.

  “I’m sorry. I’m glad you called. I guess I didn’t realize the emotional toll all of this seems to be taking on me.”

  “Weddings can be tough,” Beth says softly. “Especially if it’s your sister’s.” I nod, making eye contact with her face on the phone screen. She’s curled up on her couch at her apartment, a box of Chinese food next to her.

  “I feel like I’m being selfish,” I tell her. “Like I know this is her time. It shouldn’t matter whether I have a date or not, you know? But all I can think is that I’m tired… I’m tired…” I don’t want to finish the sentence but Beth picks it up for me:

  “You’re tired of being single,” she concludes.

  “Yes.” I nod miserably.

  “There’s no shame in admitting that. And I hear you. I mean, look at me…it’s Sunday evening and I’m sitting at home watching Netflix and eating Chinese takeout.” She gestures to the box next to her with a chopstick and then goes on, “And that is exactly why you have to go have an absolutely fantastic date—so I can live through you vicariously.” She grins wickedly before adding, “And I want every detail when you get home.”

  “Will do,” I let out a giggle. “Thanks, Beth. I’m glad you get it….”

  “No sweat. Now, let’s take a look at your outfit options, shall we?”

  “Ugh,” I let out a groan. “It’s slim pickings.”

  “I’m going to get Grace and Jazz on the call. Sounds like you need some group support. Also, Grace can make anything into a gorgeous outfit.”

  “This is just one date, I don’t know if we need to tell everyone about it,” I start to protest.

  “C’mon! You haven’t been out with a guy in ages so this is news worth sharing. We need you pumped up and perfectly prepared for this date.” I can tell that she’s already dialing in the other girls as she speaks. Seconds later, Grace’s face pops up on the screen and then a few more seconds and there’s Jazz too.

  “Did you say date?” Grace’s voice comes in with an excited screech.

  “Is everything okay?” Jazz asks. We’re used to these impromptu FaceTime sessions and if one is being initiated, it’s usually because of an “urgent” situation.

  “Cara has a date and nothing to wear. She just has her suitcase of wedding stuff,” Beth explains.

  “Wait, didn’t you just get to Boston?”

  “Who is the date with?”

  While the girls ask their questions, Beth fills them in. I put the phone down so I can sort through my suitcase with both hands, pulling three options for the girls to choose from. I lay them all out on the white bedspread.

  “Okay ladies, here are the options.” I hover the phone over the bed so that they can see each one. “A blue-and-beige patterned DVF wrap dress—a classic. Sort of low-cut. A plain black slip dress, but I feel like black is so somber for a summer date? And then this dark red spaghetti strap. It’s supposed to be for the rehearsal dinner, which is sort of formal, but I have time to get it dry-cleaned before then if it gets ruined.”

  I’m met with a chorus of voices.

  “The Diane von Furstenberg!” Beth shouts.

  “Definitely the black one!” Jazz yells on top of her.

  “Red, hands down.” Grace says calmly.

  Realizing that each person voted for something different, we all burst out laughing. Grace is the first one to recover herself and reiterates her vote. “Go for the red! You can dress it down with flats if you feel like it’s too fancy.”

  “Fine, fine,” Beth jokingly huffs. “Go with Grace’s choice.”

  “Try it on for us!” Jazz chimes in.

  “I need to take a shower and do my hair and makeup first,” I tell them. “I’m a mess. I’ll send you all a quick selfie before I head out.”

  I end the call and throw the phone down on the bed in a rush to get showered and do my makeup. I add just a hint of eye shadow to my usual everyday look of tinted moisturizer and mascara. It’s enough to make me feel sexy and vampy, which is exactly how I want to feel tonight. At 6:55, I’m ready to go—with five minutes to spare. Jason will be downstairs at 7:00. What if he doesn’t show up? I think about it for a split second of horror before squashing the nasty thought.

  I take a selfie and send it to the girls in our group chat. “Stunning!” “Gorgeous!” “Have fun!” Their messages of encouragement come trickling in. With a smile, I gauge myself in the mirror. Compared to two hours ago, when I was collapsed on the hotel room floor in near tears, this is quite an improvement.

  I didn’t have time to wash my hair so I tamed the frizz by pulling it into a low-slung bun. A few tendrils of blonde have escaped here and there but they add to the sexy effect. My eyes are shining with excitement and my cheeks are pink—I didn’t even need blush. The red dress was the right choice. Trust Grace to land it. The delicate spaghetti straps lead seductively down to my cleavage. The dress goes down to just below the knee and has a flirty ruffle at the bottom, making it sexy but not over-the-top.

  I remove my pearl earrings, feeling like they don’t really go with the dress. The only jewelry I’m wearing now is the silver chain I never take off. It has a tiny pendant with my birth date etched on it. My Dad gave it to my Mom when she had me. Laura has one as well with her birthday on it. I touch it gently. It’s one of my most valuable possessions, even though it’s technically not valuable at all. Not in a monetary sense.

  I scan myself once more in the mirror. I guess this will do. I grab a tiny black beaded clutch and slip my phone, hotel key, and some money inside—plus a stick of gum since…you never know, maybe this night will end with a kiss. It’s exactly 7:00 p.m. Before I get a chance to chicken out, I stride down the stairs to the lobby and out the front door…almost bumping into Jason—who’s heading inside—in the process.

  “Whoa!” He grabs me by the shoulders to avoid knocking into me with the
full force of his body. “In a hurry?”

  I look up and see that he’s grinning broadly, his eyes crinkling at the corners just like they did this afternoon.

  “I’ve got a hot date,” I tell him with a smile. “You clean up nice.”

  “Well, thank you. You look even lovelier than I remember.” He removes his hands from my shoulders, leaving a tingle of warmth where they were resting, and stands back to look at me. “Beautiful,” he says simply. That’s it. One word. And I can feel myself blushing like a teenage girl—and praying that he doesn’t notice.

  I take the moment to size him up. He’s even taller than I remember. He’s wearing a nice pair of slacks and perfectly polished shoes but his white button-down shirt is undone at the top and the sleeves are casually pushed up over his elbows. Without the dirt and grime from this afternoon, it’s easier to see that his dark hair is flecked with hints of gray. Now that he’s out of his construction worker gear, he looks a bit older, more mature—but in a good way.

  “I hope you like seafood?” He asks, offering me an arm. Without a second thought, I link my hand into the crook of his elbow.

  “Absolutely. I was born and raised in Boston so it’s in my DNA,” I tell him with a smile.

  “Great. Do you know Mario’s Bistro?”

  “Nope. I don’t get back here much so I’m not up-to-date on the new spots.”

  “Best oysters in town. You’ll love it.”

  The streets have quieted since this afternoon. The hustle and bustle of tourists has subsided and there’s a calm as dusk sets in. Jason steers me down a tree-lined side street paved with red brick. At the far end, a small fountain is gurgling.

  “So you’re born and raised in Boston, but staying at a hotel… What brings you back? Family?”

  “Yes. My sister’s getting married.”

  “Oh, and you get to be the maid of honor?” He shoots me a knowing look.

  “You are correct, sir.”

  “And is your sister a bridezilla?”

  I burst out laughing. “Not at all! She’s actually super sweet and laid-back. I want her to have the perfect day.”

  We’ve reached the fountain at the end of the street and right next to it is a tiny white sign with just the word Mario’s written on it in black lettering. There can’t be more than three tables inside…the place is tiny.

  “Did you make a reservation?” I ask dubiously.

  “Yes, Miss Attorney,” he grins as he opens the door and ushers me in ahead of him. “Any other questions?”

  I cringe. “Just Cara. No attorney talk tonight. This is supposed to be a vacation for me.”

  I jump at the giant laugh he lets out in response. “Being a maid of honor is your vacation? Whew, you must really work hard then.”

  Minutes later, we’re seated at a little table at the restaurant’s front window, looking out over the square and the gurgling fountain outside. I wait for a menu to be placed in my hands but it never comes.

  “The oysters?” The waiter simply asks, looking expectantly at Jason.

  “You got it.” He nods with confidence. “And we’ll take a look at the wine list, please. White okay?” He looks to me and I nod happily. I had to forego my wine-and-oyster feast this afternoon but it looks like I’m more than going to make up for it tonight. It’s like he read my mind.

  Soon enough, we’re working our way through a mountain of oysters while sipping on crisp white wine out of long-stemmed glasses. The waiter, it turns out, is also the cook. Mario’s Bistro is a one-man show and Mario does it all, running back and forth from the kitchen to the dining room as he tops off our glasses and, once dark sets in, lights the single candle on the table between us. It’s simple but romantic, not pretentious. And I’m enjoying every minute of it.

  “I guess you aren’t from around here either.” I pick up the thread of conversation as I down one slippery oyster after the next. “You sure don’t have an accent.”

  “Nope. Born and raised in Baltimore, Maryland. But now I’m based in the Big Apple myself.”

  I feel my heart leap slightly at this bit of news as I go on to ask, “So what brought you to New York?”

  “Work. I’ve been in construction for two decades.” He doesn’t elaborate. I don’t ask but I assume that 20 years on the job gives him some kind of seniority. Maybe that's why the other guys seemed to listen to him when he told them to back off earlier today.

  “So you’re based in New York but working construction in Boston? How does that work?” I ask, genuinely curious.

  “I’m just here temporarily for some family stuff. You know us construction guys…we can pick up a bit of work anywhere,” he shrugs. “Most site managers are happy to have another pair of hands to chip in, especially on a weekend.”

  “I guess that’s a good way to make some money and travel at the same time.”

  “You could say that. What about you? How’d you make it to New York?”

  “A similar story—thanks to work.” I smile. “Well, first I went there for law school at Columbia. Then I started working in the city and just…”

  “Never stopped?” He finishes the sentence for me with a smile. “I know the feeling.” As he talks, he lets his gaze shift ever so slightly down from my eyes to my chest. “Mind if I ask about your necklace?”

  Did he just use my necklace as an excuse to check out my boobs? Well…I can’t help but wonder momentarily…that’s smooth.

  “It was a gift from my father,” I tell him, fingering the delicate silver pendant carefully. “I got it when I was born… It has my birthday engraved on it.”

  “Ah.” He leans forward to take a closer look and I can feel his hot breath on my fingers as I hold the delicate pendant away from my chest—towards him. “November 11. I guess I don’t have to guess how old you are now.”

  “The cat’s out of the bag,” I respond with a smile, letting the pendant drop back against my chest and straightening up. “My sister has a necklace just like this with her birthday on it. I never take mine off to be honest.”

  “So family must be pretty important to you,” he says.

  “Yeah. Are you close with yours?”

  “Absolutely. I’m actually here for a wedding myself. My brother. Well, stepbrother technically. But he feels like my brother. The whole family will be here.”

  I notice how his eyes light up when he mentions his loved ones and smile to myself. He clearly cares about them a lot.

  “Boston really has become a hot-spot for wedding tourism, hasn’t it? It wasn’t like this when I grew up here.”

  “What—like last year?” He gives me a warm smile and a wink.

  “It’s been a bit longer than that—but thanks.” I reach for my wine glass and take a sip. Given that he’s undoubtedly already calculated my age, it’s a nonsensical statement—but I appreciate the wit and charm he delivers it with. I’m dying to know his age but don’t want to ask…

  “Nice nail polish,” he remarks suddenly, catching me off guard. I put my glass down and make eye contact with him and the knowing look on his face is unmistakable. “You didn’t by any chance get a manicure after we met today, did you?”

  I can’t help it. I’m so surprised that I burst out laughing, completely ruining any pretense of romance. “Wow, for a real man’s man, that is an impressive eye for detail!” I tell him. “I didn’t think you would notice.”

  “Men who care always notice the details,” he says with a shrug. “And I guess women who care pay attention to the details too.” I feel a shiver run down my spine as he levels his gaze, meeting mine. “So let’s take a look,” he adds, holding his hand out across the table to me, palm up. “A nice manicure is meant to be appreciated.”

  I place my hand delicately in his, noticing how small it looks in comparison to his. He leans forward slightly and examines my hand intently, then raises it gently to his lips and kisses the back, once, softly. “Looks gorgeous,” he says, once again rather simply.

  “Tha
nks.” I can’t get out anything more. I just exhale the word with my existing breath. I pull my hand back, uncertain. He seems totally unfazed.

  “Well, I’m glad to see that—despite your fresh manicure—you don’t mind getting messy when it comes to devouring a mountain of oysters.” He nods at my empty plate.

  “I’d never let good seafood go to waste.”

  “Good to know. Now I know how to tempt you to future dates.”

  “I’ll never say no to oysters,” I respond pointedly, feeling bold as I lock eyes with him. The words “future dates” echo in my head and I can feel my heart thumping.

  “Shall we get out of here?” He asks as he gestures to Mario for the check.

  I just nod, my head spinning slightly. I’m not sure if it’s because of the wine or because I’m so caught off guard by Jason’s gentlemanly behavior. Of course, I knew he was hunky and polite after our brief exchange this afternoon, but it turns out he’s also well spoken and charming—what planet did this guy come from?

  He pays the bill without even glancing at me and holds the door open for me as we exit the restaurant. The summer day has cooled into a crisp night and I internally curse myself for not bringing a cardigan as I tuck my hand into the crook of his elbow.

  “Cold?” He murmurs at one point, nestling slightly closer.

  “Yeah, I should have brought a shawl or something for nighttime.”

  “It would have been practical… But I have to say, it would have ruined the…ah… Let’s say…effect…of that dress.” I catch him grinning from the corner of my eye.

  “Well in that case, I guess I can stand the cold,” I laugh lightly.

  “You don’t have to.” He gently takes my hand from his elbow and instead wraps his arm around my shoulders as we walk, pulling me in closer. “Better?”