The NYCE Girls!

by Raquel Belle

  “You’re shitting me,” I said, then covered my mouth, but Nathan laughed it off.

  “Absolutely not. The only thing is, the society started as an all-male body. It’s been that way until very recently. Too recent for me to happily admit. That being said, the rules are in flux. Certain meetings, women are welcome, others, women aren’t. I’d have to check for the one coming up,” he said. “Even so, you’d be able to send a proxy on your behalf.”

  “Yes, either way, if you can get me into a meeting, I’ll find someone to go for me if that’s the case,” I said.

  “Okay, great. I’ll text you when I find out the details,” he said, then sat back and picked up his coffee cup. “What else did you want to know?”

  “The main reason you agreed to meet me,” I said, “tell me all about how you became a producer for the musical and what that’s meant for you since.”

  Nathan grinned and folded his hands to crack his knuckles. “You might want to record this bit.”

  “Sure thing!” I pulled out my phone and started recording. Nathan had a long story to tell about the early days in Pennsylvania. It was a good story, but by the time he was done, I had ten minutes to get to Jonathan’s hotel room for the interview.

  “Nathan, thank you so much for meeting with me,” I said and shook his hand as I stood. He stood with me.

  “Of course. I find that you’re not as abrasive as the other journalists I’ve seen Jonathan speak to, or who’ve spoken to me,” he said.

  “Eh, well, that’s the city for you. I’m headed to talk with Jonathan now.” I gathered my things and pulled my bag over my shoulder.

  “Good luck. Like I said, I’ll let you know about that meeting. Keep an eye out for my text or call.”

  I thanked him again and then beat feet out of there. I literally ran to the hotel and followed the signs pointing me to the elevators.

  As I hurried towards them, I passed the hotel bar and a familiar male figure stood at the end of it. He met my eyes just as I realized who it was. Anthony wore a scarf over a thin, form fitting sweater and jeans. His hair was a little disheveled, and his scruff wasn’t as neat as it usually was. It was ridiculous that he still looked hot as hell when he was clearly out of sorts. He nodded in greeting, and the pettiest part of me took the reins over my body. I walked over to him, ready to gloat about my lead with the Common Templars.

  “Good afternoon, Beth. Couldn’t resist coming over?” His voice was low and a little hoarse. Was he coming down with something? I stopped my line of thinking…because…why would I care?

  “I couldn’t actually. Did you interview already?” I said.

  “Yep, you’ve got sloppy seconds. He might not be as forthcoming with you. Sorry,” he said, without even an ounce of remorse in his tone.

  “Whatever, even if he’s reluctant, I have something you don’t,” I said. My petty heart soared when his expression sobered, and his brows drew together. I was so smug that I felt almost giddy.

  “What do you have…?” Anthony asked.

  “Did you get any info on the Common Templars?” I asked, faking sincerity.

  “What do you have, and how did you get it?” he said.

  “I’m actually late for my interview now. I gotta run. You look good by the way. That scarf goes…so well with your sweater.” I backed away from him before he could grab my arm. I hurried to the elevators then pressed the button for the sixteenth floor. My grin literally felt like it stretched from ear to ear.

  Chapter Eight

  Anthony

  My entire body was hot with tension as I watched her walk away from the bar at a fast clip. Her ass bounced even in jeans. I clenched my jaw, then gestured to the bartender, so that I could pay my tab. She wasn’t about to gloat in my face and get away with it. Beth would give me a lead whether she intended to or not.

  “Fucking …fuck,” I said. How was she able to get a lead before I could? What did she know? I quickly signed my receipt and tipped the bartender then jogged to the elevators. I pressed the call button furiously until the thing chimed and the doors slid open. Not caring that there was a couple trying to catch the elevator. I got on and pressed the close door button then jabbed the number sixteen button. “Come on, come on…”

  The elevator cruised to the sixteenth floor, and the doors finally opened. I jogged down the carpeted hallway. Suite doors were few and far between. Earlier, I’d counted only six suites on the entire floor. Jonathan’s suite had been huge. It was basically an apartment. I reached the end of the hall and stood in front of Jonathan’s suite with my fist poised over the door. I paused to take a breath, then knocked.

  Jonathan didn’t open the door for a few minutes. When he did, the dude’s hair was messed up as if he—or someone—had been pushing their fingers through it.

  “Hello, Anthony…? Did you leave something?” He seemed genuinely confused. I looked him up and down. His clothes didn’t seem rumpled or mussed. Maybe Beth wasn’t in there selling sex for information after all.

  “Sorry to bother you. I know you had that other interview, but I think I did leave something. I can’t find my signet ring anywhere. You have to understand—it’s a family heirloom,” I said.

  “Oh, oh, completely,” Jonathan said and opened the door to let me in. “My grandfather gave me the family signet a week before he went on his deathbed. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost it.” All I could do was nod, feeling only a little shitty for lying.

  “Thanks so much. This means a lot, Jon,” I said.

  He gestured to the whole apartment suite with his arm. “Don’t worry about it at all. Have a look around, but I’m actually getting interviewed by the other journalist now. So, you’ll have to forgive me for not helping you look.”

  “Oh, already? Where are they?”

  “We’re out on the balcony.” Jonathan pointed across the living room to Beth, who sat facing away from us at the balcony table.

  “I know her. Beth is great…” I said. Jonathan left me to my own devises. I scowled at the back of his head as he stepped outside to join Beth. The guy was too nice and too trusting. I’d always heard that British people were blunt and borderline rude in a nice accent. He was, annoyingly, none of those things. I went to the dining table—which separated the living room from the kitchen—and crouched, pretending to look for a fucking nonexistent ring on the floor. I really needed to crawl my way out to the balcony and ruin Beth’s interview. I didn’t care how petty that made me. If she wanted me gone, she was going to have to cough up what she knew.

  I bee-lined around the kitchen and living room, pretending to look for the ring. Then I glanced at the balcony. Beth turned her head and glared at me. Jonathan was looking down at his phone. I grinned and walked outside. Beth’s hair was loose—it fell in waves to the middle of her back, and the sunlight brought out a honey color to it. She wasn’t wearing much makeup, and I realized then that she never really needed it.

  “It’s cold out here. Why’d you want to interview on the balcony?” I asked Beth. Jonathan looked up, mildly startled.

  “Oh, it was my suggestion. Some of my closer friends call me a polar bear because I like the chill so much. I hope you aren’t uncomfortable, Beth?”

  “No, I’m great. It’s nice out here. Plus, I have my blazer, so I’m not feeling it as much,” she said.

  “Good, good. Have you had any luck finding your ring?”

  “None, unfortunately. But I did bump into Beth at the bar a little earlier. I was wondering—and I’m not accusing you of anything—but could you just check to see if a ring fell into your bag?” I asked her. She speared me with the iciest glare. I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling in her face.

  “Um…yeah, sure. I don’t mind…at all,” she said.

  “Oh, surely she doesn’t have to do that. I doubt the ring could have fallen into your bag,” Jonathan said, coming to Beth’s defense. I looked at him, wondering if he had a crush on her or some shit.

  “It’s a
lright,” Beth said and rummaged through her purse, pulling everything out, down to her tampons. I stared at the table, wide eyed. I didn’t think she’d go that far.

  “This, this is a breach of privacy, surely. You didn’t have to do that Beth,” Jonathan said. The guy was clearly embarrassed and flustered. His sensibilities were being put to the test.

  “No, it’s okay. It seems like this ring is important to Anthony. How about we do a quick scan of the great room?” She gestured inside. Jonathan shook his head at her and almost rolled his eyes at me. I was glad that I already had my interview with the guy. Beth was smart though— she was counting on his reaction and using my own fucking plan against me. I clenched my jaw and nodded to her suggestion.

  “If you don’t mind giving up some of your time?” I said, slowly.

  “If Beth is okay with it, then I don’t see why not,” Jonathan said.

  “Thanks so much. You’re being really kind about this, Jon,” I said. He gave me a half smile, then held the door open for Beth. We got on all fours like a bunch of idiots and started crawling around the suite.

  “You know what? I should check the hallway. You did use the bathroom when you were here. It could be there,” Jonathan said. He left us by ourselves in the dining area. Then Beth’s hand shot out, and she grabbed my sweater and dragged me out into the hallway. She pulled the door latch, so that we wouldn’t get locked out.

  “You think you’re so fucking smart?” She said. “What is wrong with you? You really had to come up here and try to sabotage my fucking interview!” She whisper-screamed in my face. We were a breath apart.

  “No, no, you started this shit. Remember when you came to the bar just to gloat. Now it’s backfiring. Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

  “No Karma is an entitled fucking asshole who throws a fit when he realizes he doesn’t have everything.”

  “Whatever. I’m not going to stand here and personify Karma with you. Cough up the information, so I can leave.”

  “I’m not giving you shit,” she said.

  “Then I’m not leaving. Good luck getting enough content for that feature without a full interview.”

  “What else will make you leave?” she said.

  “A blow job,” I said, completely joking. Though I pretended to be serious. Then, with no warning, her hand came across my face, slapping me hard.

  “Fuck!” I said and grabbed her wrist reflexively, in case she wanted to hit me again. I stared at her in shock. “Take a joke!”

  “You’re a pig,” she said, “and a bully. I’m not giving up any information, and I’ll hit you again to fucking prove it.”

  “Try it,” I said. We stared at each other again. My heart was drumming in my chest, and my body was tensed. She tugged her arm, trying to get it out of my grasp, but all she did was pull me closer. It happened on a weird instinct, like we were on the same invisible wavelength. I lowered my head, and she tilted hers, then our lips met, and something like fire jumped into my body.

  I pressed her against the hallway wall and pinned her hand at her side. A low moan escaped the back of her throat, and she curled her fingers around my neck, keeping me against her. She tasted like mint and coffee, and her flowery perfume reached my nose without being overpowering. She was soft, and as our hips pressed together, I was growing stiff. Our tongues played and danced around each other’s. Her lips were soft and plump like I imagined, and I didn’t want to stop kissing her.

  I let go of her wrist, and she let her hand fall against my chest. I cupped her face, and then slid my lips to her neck where I kissed and nipped at the sensitive skin before returning to her mouth. I wanted to hear her moan, and I wanted her to surrender to me completely. It was like a weird raging need in my veins that blocked out anything and everything else. If we kept going, there was no doubt in my mind that we’d end up fucking in the hallway.

  Chapter Nine

  Beth

  Anthony’s skin was hot under my fingers, and his body felt rock hard pressed against mine. My hormones were raging out of control. It only got worse the more I started to feel his erection. He let go of my wrists to grab my ass, and he lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he pushed his hips forward, rubbing the bulge in his pants right against my pussy. A rush of heat flushed through me with a tremble of need. In the back of my mind, I figured we should stop, and we needed to stop, but so much of me wanted to keep going.

  “Beth? Anthony…?” Jonathan’s distant voice snapped me out of it. Anthony’s lips fell to my neck again, as he set me on my feet. I shoved him away from me. He stumbled against the opposite wall and stared at me in wide-eyed silence, seemingly feeling as much shock and confusion as I was. We were both breathing hard, and soon the feeling of shame enveloped me. I can’t believe I just kissed him, him—Anthony fucking Preston, of all the people in New York City…

  “I’ll tell him you found it, okay?” I said.

  “Wait…wait,” he said and adjusted his jeans. I shook my head and hurried into Jonathan’s suite, shutting the door behind me.

  Jonathan looked none the wiser with his blue eyes curious and his hands cupped around a coffee mug. “Did you all find it?”

  I took a deep breath and ran my fingers through my hair to fix any messiness. “Yes, he found it out in the hall. He got lucky.”

  “Good then. Glad that’s over, huh? He came off as rude towards you, no?”

  “We have a sort of…rivalry,” I said. “Enough about that though. I hope you still have time to talk?”

  “I have loads of time. Don’t worry about that at all. Shall we?” Jonathan gestured to the balcony, and I walked out ahead of him. I couldn’t even remember where I’d been in my line of questioning or what we had even been talking about. I flipped through my notes and then started a new recording on my phone. I read the first question that I’d jotted down about the role he played in the musical, but then he started talking about history, and I easily zoned out.

  Anthony had tasted like warm liquor, and he felt just as warm. When we were kissing, I didn’t want to let him go. His body felt so good against mine and that was…unnerving, to say the least.

  Jonathan sighed, “All in all, that’s the long roundabout answer to your question. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah… This is perfect,” I said. The interview lasted another half hour. I didn’t even get to talk to Jonathan about the Common Templars. I didn’t mind though, since it seemed like Nathan was the better route for information on the secret society anyway.

  I left the hotel and immediately called Jasmine. I hoped she wasn’t at work, and I didn’t feel like showing up at her office if need-be just to yell at her for working too much.

  “Hey-lo,” Jasmine answered on the third ring.

  I exhaled in relief. “You won’t believe what just happened. We have to go out later today so that I can spill. I need a friend so say yes, please.” I headed down Madison towards the train station.

  “Alright fine, let’s go out for happy hour,” she said.

  “Yes! I’ll swing by your place after work, okay?” We finalized plans, and I caught the train to Harlem to visit my mommy before she could call me with another guilt trip.

  ***

  Peppas was a cute new cocktail bar in the Park Slope neighborhood of Brooklyn, and it wasn’t too far from me or Jasmine. She lived in Red Hook, and I lived in Windsor Terrace—both sort of straddled Park Slope. The bar was chic, feminine, and contemporary. The colors were bold—pinks and reds and deep solid colors. The bar inside was huge—rectangle-shaped, and there must’ve been over fifty people sitting comfortably around it. It was the centerpiece to the entire building. Though, there were also booths and tables scattered throughout the space.

  “I like this daiquiri,” Jasmine said, as she took another sip of her drink. Her hair was loose and bounced with every movement. She wore a cute turtleneck sweater, black skinny jeans, and boots with heels for days. I came out in a sweater dress and boots, not caring ho
w hipster I looked. I took a long pull from my Long Island iced tea.

  “Why are you so quiet?” Jasmine asked. “Will you tell me what happened, already?”

  “You know how I’m in this whole merry-go-round situation with Anthony again, right?” I took another long sip and felt the nice, fog-like warmth rise from my chest as the alcohol started to cushion my head.

  “Yeah, what’d he do?”

  “He… We…um…” I couldn’t even get the words out. The shame was lodged in my chest. My cheeks grew warm, and then Jasmine gasped, her eyes wide as she scanned my face.

  “Wait, what?” Jasmine said.

  “We kissed,” I said, spitting out the words like stale gum. “It was…hot, and I hate myself for kissing him back.” I gulped down more of my drink and then took a deep breath. Jasmine was grinning at me with a know-it-all expression. I sighed. “What? You saw this coming?”

  “I didn’t want to say anything at the coffee shop, but love runs on the same lines as hate does, and you wouldn’t have talked about him like you did if there wasn’t a chance you were attracted to him,” she said. “Passion is passion.”

  I shook my head. I hated that she was so observant and maybe…maybe a little right. Okay, she was completely right. “I don’t love him!”

  Jasmine rolled her eyes and waved the comment away. “You like him, though.”

  “No, Jazz, I can’t like him or be attracted to him. He’s my nemesis, and I have to crush him and rub it in his smug, stupidly handsome face! I hate that we kissed, too,” I said, blushing all over again. Mostly because, deep down, I knew it was a lie. The kiss had been really hot, and I knew that if we were alone in a room, much more might have happened.

  “You hate that you kissed, or you hate that you kissed under these circumstances?” Jasmine said. Again, she hit the nail on the head.