The NYCE Girls!

by Raquel Belle

  Beth still looked shocked. She tilted her head and shrugged. “Well, if you say so, okay. Thank you.”

  I grinned. “See? I’m not so bad.” She stood up and grabbed her bag and jacket in one motion. I ran my fingers through my hair. “So, we’ll rendezvous before the event then?”

  “Yeah, I’ll call you on Thursday after I’ve talked to Nathan,” she said.

  I got up and walked her to the door. Part of me wanted to kiss her again, but her eyes were on the doorknob, and she was turned away from me. There were ten other things I wanted to ask her too, but she’d already opened the door and stepped out.

  “Can I have your cell number?” I said, realizing that I only had her work number and vice versa. It felt kinda like a high school move, but either way, I needed it.

  “Right, yeah,” she said and came back to program her number into my phone.

  “Can I call you…like for reasons other than the feature?” I asked.

  Beth let out a breathy laugh, effectively not answering the question. She waved and left. I stood in the doorway and watched her go.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Beth

  My mom’s townhouse in Harlem was a much-needed respite after the crazy few days I’d had. I laid on her couch, staring at the framed picture of a Catholic saint I couldn’t remember the name of, with a bag of ice on my head.

  “Rough week so far, huh?” Eliza lifted my feet and sat down, resting them on her lap. My mom and I were pretty much clones—in everything except for the eyes. That’s the only claim my Dad had to me—our hazel eyes. My mom’s eyes were brown…and for her age…she still looked young too. She blamed her short height for making her look like a kid.

  I sighed. “Ma, you have no idea.”

  “See, that’s why you need a nice man that you can come home to who can relieve all of this stress. It’s not good for you.”

  I almost rolled my eyes and would have, had she not been watching me. “Ma, a man is not going to fix everything, especially not my stress. Men are the cause of my stress.” I took the ice bag off of my head and stretched my arm to drop it on the coffee table.

  “Men or a man? Are you seeing someone?”

  I did roll my eyes then and sat up. “Ma, you missed the actual point of what I just said.”

  She waved away the comment and stood up to take the ice pack. “I know…I know. You said you were taking a break from men because you keep getting your heart broken. But, baby, this is a long break, and I don’t want you to end up lonely like me. We’re already short.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re not lonely, Ma. You and Dad are getting back together, mark my words.” I grinned, already planning our Sunday lunch. It was my newest tradition since their divorce six months ago. Slowly but surely, I was watching them get closer again. My Dad was great, but sometimes he was hardheaded, and my mom was a complete catch, but sometimes she spoke without thinking and often refused to apologize. I didn’t think that was something to divorce over but they were both dramatic.

  “Yeah, okay baby. Keep the dream alive,” she said and walked through the archway into the kitchen.

  I followed her and leaned on the counter. “I am! You’ll see. The both of you will be thanking me at your second wedding.”

  She laughed as she opened the freezer and tossed the ice bag in. “Have you spoken to your brother?”

  “Not with the week I’ve been having, why?” I asked, concerned. My little brother was also like my son—there was a decent enough age gap. We were super close, and I’d been neglecting him in the face of all this Anthony and feature writing drama. My mom took a hairband off of her wrist and tied her wavy hair into a bun. The only real signs of age she had were the wrinkles on her neck that she often hid with her long hair.

  “I don’t know. The last time I spoke to him, he was trying to be funny. He kept saying that he wasn’t sure he’d make it for Thanksgiving.”

  “He had to be making a joke. He isn’t for real,” I said. Immediately, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted Oscar to call me.

  “Yeah, well, I’ve already started buying all of his favorite food for the cookout so his little butt better get on a plane one way or another,” she said.

  “I’ll book his ticket so he’ll have no choice,” I said.

  “Good, but back to what we were talking about before,” she said.

  “Ugh, Ma, I don’t want to talk about my guy issues. It’s gonna give me a headache all over again.”

  “I’ll transfer the headache to me. Come on, I want to know the story,” she said.

  I sighed. “Fine…I got involved with a journalist at a rival paper and…it’s messy.” Ma didn’t look impressed. I filled her in on all of the details afterwards, and it actually did make me feel better. Ma, on the other hand, was looking at me as if she’d lived a thousand lives.

  “Loca,” she said, using my nickname which meant crazy, in a low, almost exasperated tone.

  “I know, Ma, I know. I’m not…I don’t think anything will happen with us anyway. It’s too much of a mess. I feel ten different ways when I’m around him, and I really don’t think a relationship between us would work out.”

  “No, you just don’t want a relationship to work between you. Passion is a good thing. You just have to let yourself explore it. All of that sounds like you’re holding yourself back because of that vow or whatever you took, swearing off of men. You want to believe he’s the devil and look, he’s helping you out. No journalist in their right mind would share information. Especially not him, right?” She pushed off of the counter where she’d been leaning and grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge.

  I couldn’t answer that. Mostly because I hadn’t entertained the idea of dating Anthony in any capacity. Yet I’d dreamt about him twice in a row and there was no denying that my body knew who it wanted.

  “You’re being stubborn,” she said and handed me a bottle.

  “Am I though?”

  She gave me a flat look but didn’t say anything. “Anyway, that’s my advice. We should start planning the cookout now, yeah? Let’s not be like every other Thanksgiving where we do everything last minute and kill ourselves with stress.”

  I laughed. “That’s the fun of it though, and then we get a huge party at the end.”

  “Nope, not this year,” she said. “I’m ugly when I’m stressed.”

  I looked at her with a small grin, and she held up her finger to try and stop me from speaking. My smile grew bigger. “Why? You don’t want to be ugly for Dad to see?” My grin grew and Ma shook her head at me, trying to hold back a laugh.

  “You are the worst, you know that!”

  “I knew my Sunday lunches were working,” I said.

  “You’re such a romantic and yet you’re refusing to take part in your own potential love story with this Anthony,” she said, killing my mood.

  “Touché.”

  Mom and I planned the menu for Thanksgiving, then we grabbed a bite for lunch, and I went home. Paranoid that I might miss Nathan’s call or text, I put my ringer on the loudest setting and tried to distract myself with chores around the apartment. It was honestly a shame that I didn’t spend more time at home. For how much I paid in rent, I should barely leave it, but my attention span didn’t allow me to stare at the same handful of walls for too long.

  My place was in an old industrial building, renovated to hold apartments. It had walls of exposed brick, wood floors, an updated kitchen, and I’d painstakingly chosen my furniture to match the modern industrial look. The apartment was mostly open floor plan too, apart from the hallway that led to the bedroom and bathroom. I finished doing anything that I could do around the apartment and plopped down on the couch with Huevos. As soon as he’d curled up in my lap, my phone rang. I jumped up and grabbed my phone from the coffee table, answering without looking at the screen.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, did you talk to Nathan yet?” Anthony’s smooth voice startled me and
my body reacted. It was like a weird craving—my nipples hardened and a thrill fluttered through my belly. I sat down.

  “No, I’m waiting on his call or text…” I bit my lip and stared at the television screen across from me.

  “Okay, let me know when you talk to him. By the way, how am I going to get this recorder from you? I can get a Zoom and a lapel mic from the office if you need me to.”

  Huevos curled up in my lap again, and I went back and forth between inviting him over and waiting until Friday to drop the recorder off at his office. I knew without a doubt that if I told him to come tonight, we’d end up in bed, or on the couch, or the floor…maybe even the kitchen counter.

  “Beth?” Anthony said, startling me again.

  “Uhh, I’ll drop it off at your office tomorrow,” I said. My phone beeped, and I quickly checked the screen. Nathan was calling. “Hold on… He’s calling me now.” I switched over. “Nathan, how are you?”

  “I’m well, Beth, how are you? Get any sleep?”

  I laughed. “I did, actually, yes. I just got off of the phone with my potential proxy.”

  “Good! I have news for you then, grab a pen.”

  I grinned, excited to be so close to the gold—the primary information I’d hoped for. After I scurried to the kitchen and grabbed my notepad, I told Nathan to go ahead.

  “The meeting is at eight o’clock tomorrow night,” he said. “Your proxy is to meet me at seven-thirty sharp at the Saint Regis business bar. He’s to wear a black suit and black tie. Phones will be collected at the door. Have you got all that?”

  I quickly scribbled all of that down on the pad. “Got it. Do you need his name?”

  Nathan laughed. “I was just about to ask.”

  “It’s Anthony Preston,” I said.

  “Perfect. Tell him what I look like, send him a picture from online, or whatever. He should come up to me once he’s gotten to the bar,” Nathan said.

  “Okay, will do. Thanks so much for this, Nathan. I’m excited and I’m not even going,” I said.

  “Yeah, it’ll be good. It is exciting. I can only imagine what your story will do. People will be talking about the Common Templars for weeks,” he said, and I heard the smile in his voice. I wondered if he was that nice and happy all the time, or if it was just when he spoke to other people.

  “I certainly hope so,” I said, my excitement dying. Anthony’s own article would be taking some of the steam out of mine.

  “Okay! So, we’ll talk tomorrow, maybe?”

  “Yes, I’ll let you know when he gets to the hotel, or if we have any issues, though hopefully not,” I said.

  “Wonderful. Can’t wait, Beth,” he said.

  We said our goodbyes, and I hung up, only to realize Anthony had stayed on the line. I switched back.

  “Hey, you should’ve hung up,” I said.

  “I wanted to hear the details after. What’d he say?”

  “The meeting starts at eight at the Saint Regis. But you have to meet him at seven-thirty exactly at the business bar. And you have to find him there, so look up pictures of what he looks like,” I said. “Oh, and you have to wear a black suit and black tie.”

  “Alright, and you’re sure you can drop the recorder off tomorrow? What kind of recorder is it?”

  “It’s a legit spy recorder. It’s the size of a button and clips behind a lapel or whatever, and saves to a larger receiver that you can keep in your breast pocket…” I said.

  “Did you buy that for the meeting?” he asked.

  “No, I had a weird assignment where I basically had to spy on someone in college. I haven’t used it since then, though.”

  “Alright, you’ll have to tell me that story one day,” he said. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

  “Oh, wait, shoot. Um, the visitor’s dues. Do you want to go half on it?” I asked.

  “Not a chance,” he said.

  “But, wait…but you’re my proxy, so it’s only fair that I pay half,” I said.

  “Don’t worry about it, Beth,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He hung up. I dropped the phone on the couch and rubbed behind Huevos’ ears. Anthony was throwing me off. He sounded nice on the phone. What did that mean? Was he being nice to trick me? After the meeting, would he try to run with the recording and never contact me again? Was I wrong for trusting him? My temples started to throb, and my chest got tight with nerves. Hopefully I could trust him. Hopefully he wouldn’t screw me over.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Anthony

  Beth handed me her spy contraption, then she stepped back to take a look at it, before pushing her hair over to the other side of her head. It was curly, not wavy or straight like usual. The curls looked good on her, but that unsure look in her eyes was back, and it wasn’t sexy.

  “You know this is outside of our usual dynamic. I’m not going to stab you in the back over this,” I said, holding up the recorder. “I’m serious about passing through the information I get for our features.”

  Beth nodded and took a breath, but I could tell she was still nervous. Her mouth was still pinched, and the wrinkle was still between her brows.

  “I’m giving you exactly what you want, Anthony. I have no leverage over you…” she said and shrugged, before stepping back towards the door.

  “Don’t do that,” I said. “Come on, what can I do to make you trust me a little bit more?” Beth shook her head and shrugged again. I smiled. “Do I need to make a blood oath?” She smirked, and I sighed. “I can drop off my most valuable items at your place, or I can give you the keys to my car. If I don’t come back with this, then you can keep it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Anthony … That’s extreme. Just …just don’t disappear.”

  “I won’t,” I said.

  “Okay, I’ll see you soon then.” She got up and walked to the door. I wanted to pull her back and kiss her or something. But before I knew it, she waved and left.

  I sighed. “Fuck.” Naomi’s advice bounced around in my head on a loop. I had to prove myself to Beth before she trusted me enough to pursue any sort of relationship with me. My chest felt heavy enough every time she left that I could admit to wanting to be with her. I rubbed my eyes, put the spy gear in my laptop bag, and tried to focus on work. It was kind of impossible though. My imagination kept throwing up crazy scenarios that could play out at this meeting. I’d never been to any secret society meeting, so I had no idea what to expect, but the possibilities were endless.

  ***

  I was in a suit, had my charity merch on, and scanned the bar Beth instructed me to go to. This Nathan guy was a no-show, but granted, I was ten minutes early. I sat at the bar, asked for a water, and glanced over my shoulder every so often, waiting for him to walk into my section off the lobby. Not wanting to keep looking over my shoulder like I was being followed, I pulled out my phone and stared at the time. As soon as seven-thirty hit, I glanced behind me and in walked the redhead—a softer looking Prince Harry. He was in all black from his suit to the shirt and tie he wore, like the friggin' Grim Reaper. I reached into my pocket and rolled the dial to start the receiver’s recording then slipped it back into my breast pocket.

  Taking his appearance as my cue, I walked over to him, and he smiled at me. “Good evening! You must be Mister Preston,” he said, and I shook his hand.

  “Please, it’s Anthony, and it’s nice to finally meet you. Nathan, right?”

  “Yes, sir. Are you ready?” He let go of my hand and gestured towards the lobby.

  “I’m very curious, so, yes. What can I expect from this meeting?”

  Nathan put his hands in his pockets and walked casually towards the hotel’s entrance. Confused and intrigued, I followed his lead. “Ah, well it’s more of a see for yourself type of deal, yeah?”

  “Alright,” I said, “but wait… What about all of the requirements?”

  “We’ll get to that,” he said. Nathan stepped outside, and the blast of cold caused me to b
link rapidly. Before I was aware of what was happening, Nathan had his hand on my back and was ducking me into a black SUV.

  “Wait, I thought the meeting was at the Regis?” I asked while scooting down for him to get in, too. He shut the door and the car pulled away from the curb.

  “Anthony, I’m working with two journalists. Sure, the society as a whole wants to clear up some of the misconceptions and overall obscurity about us, but we don’t want to bare ourselves completely. Otherwise, what’s the fun? I’m sure Beth will forgive me, but I had to obfuscate a bit.”

  “Well, she’ll hear all about the experience later, so I’m sure she’ll be fine.” I glanced through the window when the car turned the corner as it headed towards Lower Manhattan.

  “How does this all work between the two of you, by the way?” Nathan said. “You work for rival papers, and you’re working together on this story?”

  “It’s ah…it’s complicated, but that’s what it looks like, doesn’t it?” I rubbed my brow, and Nathan looked at me with wide eyes of incredulity.

  He laughed. “Either the two of you are the kindest journalists, or you both owe something to each other.”

  I shrugged, or maybe I wanted to be with her and she had no choice but to ask me to do this favor. “Like I said, it’s complicated.”

  Nathan nodded thoughtfully, and I could tell he wanted to know more, but I wasn’t going to gossip about Beth. He took a sharp breath and said, “Either way it’s very chivalrous of you. Assuming you share with her everything you’ll see tonight.”

  I nodded and chalked his bluntness up to British charm. The rest of the car ride was quiet.

  The SUV pulled up outside of what looked like a block of four big townhouses. Nathan’s door was opened for him and he got out. He was immediately given a Harry Potter-like robe by someone already wearing one and when I got out I realized it was Jonathan. His blond hair had been shaped up and slicked down, as if he was going to a fancy dinner party. His features seemed even more stark and angular in the dark.