The NYCE Girls!

by Raquel Belle

  Anthony searched my eyes, and he was actually silent for once. “Whatever…” He half sighed, half huffed before he jumped up and stormed out of the office. The door swung shut a little harder than normal and a confusing spike of guilt poked at my chest. That’s all he wanted. I was mostly sure of it. He just wanted to shake me off my game and break me down anyway he could. But I wouldn’t give in again. Sleeping with Anthony was stupid and pointless. He was the exact kind of man that I wanted to stay far, far away from. That was the whole reason I was taking a hiatus from dating. I took a cleansing breath and tried hard to center myself.

  Chapter Twelve

  Anthony

  My head was filled with the equivalent of white noise as I left The Post. I didn’t register anyone or much of anything for a while. My knees felt like jelly, and I could still taste, feel, hear, and smell Beth. She was like the most frustrating lucid dream that I wanted to go back to and never leave. Just that thought alone pissed me the hell off because she didn’t seem to care about me at all.

  “Whatever,” I said to no one at all. I must’ve looked like a crazy person with verbal ticks.

  “Yo, guy!” Someone grabbed my arm, and I looked up when a taxi horn blared and sped around the curb that I was about to step off of. “Pay attention idiot!” The man let me go and shook his head. He walked past me, continuing in the opposite direction. I clenched my jaw and waited for the light to change. With each step, I got more and more annoyed. It didn’t make sense that she was stuck in my head the way she was, and I hated it.

  Before I was aware of it, I was jogging. I ran to the subway and went home to change into workout clothes, then ran to the gym and spent an hour and a half lifting weights. When I’d exhausted myself enough, I jogged back home, showered, and sat at my desk, staring at my computer. It didn’t make sense to hold off on writing the feature anymore. I’d seen the fucking musical. I’d had my interview with Fitzwales, and I had nothing else to write about other than that. She’d won. I closed my laptop, checked the time, and decided I needed a drink. It was still early but I said, “Fuck it.” After a quick text exchange with Naomi, I left for her office in Brooklyn.

  ***

  Naomi’s company occupied the top floor in a warehouse office building. It was as modern and hipster as it could be. Open floor plan, glassed in offices, lounge areas and collaboration corners… I walked to her office in the back with a bottle of whiskey in my hand. Naomi was sketching on a tablet at her desk. I knocked, and she looked up fast, then smirked and waved me in.

  “Hello there, Mister Day Drinker.” She closed out what she’d been working on and walked to her private tea bar, fishing out whiskey glasses that were hidden behind two tall tins.

  “It’s 5 o’clock somewhere Nao, and it’s for good reason,” I said and plopped down on one of the two sofa chairs in the consultation nook of her office.

  Naomi handed me a glass and sat in the other chair, holding her glass out. I poured for us both and set the bottle on the coffee table.

  “Well? You going to explain?” She asked.

  “It’s just…this fucking woman,” I said and downed half of my glass in one swig.

  “Yeah, preach.” Naomi took a big swig from her glass too. “Jess high-dialed me again last night. She was begging me to let her come over just so we could fuck. Nothing else. She never wants to talk, and three months later, I’m still barely able to function.” We both took another drink, and I sunk into my chair. She shook her head. “Tell me about your thing. Is it that journalist?”

  “Yeah, Beth. She’s…she’s better than me.”

  Naomi looked confused. She tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and poured more whiskey into her glass. “So the fuck what? Do what you normally do, get resourceful, and write the better story. Don’t turn over and mope. What? Does she have leverage over you or something? Did you slip up?”

  “Not in the way you’d think.” I finished my glass and poured another. “We had sex in her office a few hours ago.” Naomi’s eyes popped, and she looked like she wanted to laugh, but she was too shocked to. “She basically blew me off afterwards. Now I can’t get her out of my head, and I still don’t have the source I need for the information I fucking want.”

  Naomi’s mouth fell open a little bit and then she took a deep breath as if getting ready to launch into something long-winded. “You had sex with her a couple hours ago, and she blew you off?” Naomi said, loudly.

  I glanced over my shoulder to see if anyone had heard. The office outside was business as usual. “Yeah…”

  “Maybe she’s not into guys. You should introduce us. I’d be happy to find out,” she said, laughing.

  “Naomi!” I rolled my eyes. “Look at me! No woman has brought me to this. The sun hasn’t even gone down, and I’m skipping work to hide in my best friend’s office and drink whiskey.”

  “Hey, don’t knock yourself. I’m drinking whiskey with you, so you’re not as sad as you think.” She took the bottle from me and poured herself another glass, then put the bottle on the ground beside her chair, way out of my reach. “This is why you have me for a best friend. I’ll tell you right now, it’s a great thing that she got rid of you. I like her, and she sounds like a badass who’s playing her cards very carefully, which…” Naomi paused to sip from her glass, “tells me that she’s probably been hurt before. This combined with the fact that you two have a rivalry, will make it very hard for you to have a relationship with her…”

  “Fuck that. I don’t… I don’t want a relationship with her,” I said, mumbling the last part. The burning in my chest after saying those words wasn’t from the alcohol.

  Naomi gave me a knowing look. I shrugged and sipped my drink. “Right, so once you’ve dug yourself out of this place between butt-hurt and denial, you can think about pursuing her and not giving up. Because the only way to get a girl like that is not to give up.”

  “Damn, woman, you’re smart,” I said.

  Naomi smirked as she took another sip. “Well, Daddy only paid for ten percent of this. The rest was all me.” She gestured around the room.

  “You’re a fucking catch, Nao. Jess will come around.”

  “She’s scared of commitment. She’s scared of what her family will think. It’s not enough that I can take care of her, and love her, and be everything that she needs,” Naomi said.

  “That’s the shit though, right? She has to figure out whatever it is that’s holding her back, before she can be with you. Otherwise, you guys will end up back here.” I sighed and gestured to our glasses. “Day drinking at work …”

  Naomi snorted. “Don’t mope over your sexy rival too much. I’m sure she’s just overwhelmed.” She stood and took my glass from me even though I wasn’t the least bit finished.

  “You’re about to commit sacrilege,” I said.

  “Well, you have work to do, and so do I. We’ll pour it out in honor of our dead,” she said. I laughed, but she backed into her door and held it open. “I’m serious, come on.”

  “Ah, fuck it, I guess.” I followed Naomi through the office, and the sense of déjà vu was strong enough to catapult me back into Beth’s office. Her hazel eyes had been like molten honey when I had her…holding back screams. There was no way she could keep being so cold to me, regardless of the story.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Beth

  I glanced through the window of the same coffee shop that Nathan and I had met in before. He was due to meet me in five minutes, and I was bone tired. My overactive imagination—and my newly awakened libido—was working overtime while I slept. All I dreamt about was Anthony, having sex with him, going down on him…him going down on me. I dreamt of the myriad positions he could put me in…all the ways we could make raw, passionate love—but I kept waking up once I’d realized who dream-me was sleeping with. All in all, I got like three hours of sleep.

  “Beth,” Nathan’s voice startled me.

  I looked up and stood. “Oh, Nathan, hi!” I was
surprised when he pulled me in for a kiss on the cheek, then figured that must’ve been a pretty common greeting in the UK.

  “Good morning. How are you?” He smiled and gestured to my chair. He made sure I was comfortable before he sat with his cup of coffee. I looked at it, puzzled. Had he been in the shop long enough to order coffee, without me even noticing? Lack of sleep had done more to me than I’d realized.

  “I’ve been better. Didn’t get much sleep last night,” I said, hoping he didn’t question further.

  “Been there. Must’ve been a brutal night. I hope it wasn’t the feature that kept you up?”

  “No, no, something else. Speaking of the feature, though, I hope you have good news for me?” I smiled and broke a piece off of my scone and chewed it slowly.

  “I have news,” Nathan said. He eased back in his seat and placed both hands on the table. “The next meeting for the Manhattan chapter is at the Saint Regis, Friday night. It’s a Classics meeting, meaning no women visitors or members are allowed.” He took the lid off of his cup and blew on his coffee before sipping it.

  “So…are any visitors allowed?”

  “Oh, yes, I can get the visitor invitation, but you’ll need a proxy. Someone over thirty, and someone able to pay the visiting due. It’s five hundred dollars, and he must be involved in at least two charities, and have proof of that with him.” Nathan scratched the top of his head and pushed his fingers through his short, orange hair.

  “How would he show proof of being involved with charities?” I said.

  “Usually donors receive gifts from charities, so he could bring that. Pins, badges, plaques, that sort of thing. There’s usually some commemorative memorabilia involved.”

  I bit my lip and exhaled slowly. “Well, shit, I didn’t know it was that hard to get into a meeting,” I said. Nathan laughed, but he tilted his head to the side apologetically and drank more of his coffee. I sighed. “In order for you to even give the invitation, do you have to be sure this proxy can meet the requirements?”

  “No, there’s nothing tangible about this society, other than the good we do. There are rules, not laws. Technically, I’m the invitation. He’d have to show up, meet the requirements, then I’d escort him in. Do you think you’d be able to find someone?”

  Of course, Anthony’s fucking face flashed in my mind like a neon sign. All of my friends were women, and my Dad lived in Jersey, on top of which, he wasn’t a donor to any charities that I knew of. And my brother was nineteen and in Miami.

  “Uh…yeah, yeah I do. I do,” I said. Nathan gave me a look as if to ask if I was sure. I nodded, and he nodded back in affirmation.

  “Good. You have my number, text me to confirm by Thursday night, and I’ll send more specific instructions.”

  “I’ll definitely text you, yeah. Thanks so much for this, Nathan.” I shook his hand, and he stood when I did.

  “Of course. As I said, the Common Templars want to erase the more negative rumors that have plagued us for ages. We’re far from that, but of course, a level of secrecy and exclusivity must be maintained. We aren’t the largest orphanage donor in the world for no reason. Most of our members are public figures—as I mentioned.”

  “Right, don’t worry. My proxy will be aware of all the rules and implications going in,” I said.

  “Good, I don’t want to keep you. You could be catching up on sleep or something,” he said.

  “I wish, but now I have to head back to work,” I said and grabbed my bag. We wished each other a good day, and then I grabbed my coffee and scone and walked out quickly. I did have to get to the office—where I left my laptop—and I had to muster up the courage to face Anthony.

  ***

  “Well, well, Beth… Why ever would you need a meeting with me?” Anthony asked in an exaggerated and sarcastic tone.

  I gripped my phone tightly and took a slow, silent breath. “I need to…talk to you about something important. It’s…” I exhaled harshly, aware of the crisp silence on the other end of the line.

  “Just say it? What’s wrong?” Anthony said, his tone serious.

  “Oh, no, it’s nothing bad. Well for me, kind of, okay…” I stopped myself and started again. “I spoke to my source about getting into a Common Templars meeting and…I need a proxy to go in my stead and record everything.”

  “What?” Anthony said. He then spent the next thirty seconds laughing at the top of his lungs. I rolled my eyes and waited for him to finish. “Wait, wait, wait…”

  I put him on speaker and put the phone down, annoyed. “Well? Can you see me within the hour, or what? We need to discuss everything.”

  “Yeah, sure, come by. I’m waiting on the edge of my seat,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes and hung up. As I packed my bag to leave, a small thrill fluttered in my stomach. Studiously, I ignored it and focused on taking calm breaths because…I really had no idea what to expect.

  ***

  After a brisk walk to The Tribune, across sparse sidewalks, I stood in front of Anthony’s office with my fist poised over the wooden door. He had a window in the door, but the blinds were pulled, and I couldn’t force myself to knock because I still had time to just turn around and leave. My mind raced for any other options. Maybe I could ask Nathan or even Jonathan to wear a recorder for me? But if Nathan was willing to do it himself, he wouldn’t have asked me to go through the trouble of getting a proxy, right? I kicked myself for not asking in the first place. It was probably a very grey area…so it might’ve been insulting to even ask.

  After two minutes of me standing in front of Anthony’s office, clogging up the hallway like a weirdo, I finally tapped on the door. A second later the door swung open almost as if he’d been waiting by the handle.

  “Did you get lost?” He asked. Anthony wore a simple blue sweater and jeans. His hair kind of stuck up as if he’d been pulling at it. Other than that, he still wore the same smug and annoying grin.

  “Let’s not do…this…right now,” I said—fully expecting him to understand what I was getting at—and stepped inside. His office had a nice view of the city. It was the same size as mine, though, pretty tight. Nothing but a desk and a couple of bookshelves.

  “I’ll lay off until you give me the scoop. What’s your dilemma?” Anthony closed the door and gestured to the chair across from his desk.

  “You should sit, actually,” I said.

  Anthony quirked his eyebrow and lowered onto the edge of his desk. “Alright, spill.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Anthony

  Beth paced in front of the door to my office for what felt like five minutes before she said anything. I got so bored that I counted how many times her ponytail swung as she paced. She’d worked herself up so much that she had to take off her leather jacket.

  “You know Jonathan’s best friend who’s here with him?” she said. I blinked at her, nothing ringing any bells. She stepped closer to me. “His name is Nathan Chester. He’s a producer of the musical.”

  “I have no fucking idea who Nathan Chester is.”

  Beth almost smiled, and I knew what she was thinking too…that she met and knew of this guy was why she had him as her source. But still, fate must’ve had a soft spot for me because here she was, needing my help.

  “Whatever…he’s Jonathan’s best friend, and he’s a member of the Common Templars. He confirmed the existence of the secret society and said that there are chapters in several countries, including here. Basically, there’s a chapter in Manhattan, and Nathan invited me to a meeting. But the meeting coming up is some sort of classic meeting. It’s for men only, so I’ll need a proxy, and there are requirements for the proxy to get an official invite into the meeting.”

  Beth huffed and wiped her face, looking weary. I stood up and walked to her before thinking about it but then stopped myself. Beth looked up at me and for a second the veil of our usual banter and rivalry fell away. I saw it in the way her eyes softened, not wanting to let the moment slip by. I le
aned down and kissed her. She let me, and her lips brushed mine and then she put her hand on my chest and pushed me away. In seconds, she was guarded again. She stepped around me and sat down.

  I wanted to ask her what we were doing and what was going on between us. But the need to know more about the meeting briefly outweighed my confusion. “What are the requirements?”

  “For one, you have to pay a five-hundred-dollar due. Also, you have to be thirty or over, which…you are, right?”

  I walked to my desk and sat across from her. “I’m thirty, yeah.”

  “And you have to bring proof with you that you’re involved with at least two charities,” she said. “I remember you bragging about how charitable you are at the Foundation Gala.”

  I smirked. “Fun times, huh?”

  She ignored me. “Do you have little mementos that the charities might have sent you for giving?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got a couple pins and a nameplate bracelet. But what are the logistics? And what does this mean for our articles?”

  “The meeting is going to be at the Saint Regis on Friday. Nathan will text me the exact details on Thursday. As for the articles…I don’t know,” she said. She tossed her hands up and sighed.

  “I’ll go to the meeting for you and wear the recorder. But we’ll have to meet up afterwards in order to go through the playback and divvy up the information we get.” She seemed like she was at her last straw and giving in. I didn’t like the look on her and wanted to show her that I could be reasonable.

  “You’ll divvy up the information with me?” she asked.

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Beth. I can be a good guy sometimes too. Plus, it’s only fair. That, I wouldn’t do to you. It’s one thing to scoop a source, but it’s another to completely steal all of your information.”