The NYCE Girls!

by Raquel Belle

  I took a deep breath, put down my cup, and glanced around the space. It wasn’t loud even though it was full. I guessed tea did that to people—made everyone feel soft, and quiet, and cozy. In the back of my mind, I wondered if Naomi knew exactly what she was doing in bringing me here.

  “What’s he told you?” I asked. Honestly, I didn’t know how to navigate this because Naomi was Anthony’s best friend. Would there be loyalties in play? Was she already biased to be on his side?

  “He told me about the stupid thing that he hid from you for a ridiculous amount of time,” she said.

  “Yeah, he… Well, we didn’t start off great, and I feel like he should have put more stock into being truthful with me about everything. Especially when it comes to our work. The arrangement we had was essentially based on trust and being honest. But he kept that from me and now…I feel like we’re back where we started.”

  Naomi’s eyes popped with surprise. “Back where you started? Like, you can’t stand him?” A server came by with a hot plate to put an extra pot of water on top of, in case we wanted to add to our tea.

  “Not literally, but just the fact that I feel as though I have to watch my back where work is involved. He—” I paused to keep back the tears that suddenly pricked the corners of my eyes. “In the situation we were in, I needed him to go to the meeting, record, and deliver back the information, and then I had to cut him a deal to share the recording, so that we wouldn’t have identical features. He gave me a premise for my features, which, granted, it was the only other angle that made sense at the time. But, Naomi, he basically had all of the cards in that situation. So, it’s like, the more I’m thinking about all of this, the worse it makes me feel. He went to another meeting and then kept it from me. He could be totally screwing me over for all I know.”

  She blinked at me as if she hadn’t considered all of that. Honestly, my mind had milled the situation over and over again, so I’d had time to get to that conclusion. I felt betrayed though, and I wished there was some other reality that I could jump into where Anthony had told me the truth to begin with.

  Naomi took a deep breath. “Shit… He—I don’t want to make excuses for him because I told him how much of an idiot he was for not telling you about that earlier—but I guarantee he wasn’t thinking about how he had all the power in your arrangement.”

  “Oh?”

  “Beth, to be completely honest, he’s just head over heels for you and really, truly, didn’t want to mess up what you guys had going on.” We both took a sip of tea. “I mean, he was beside himself on the phone. He just wants things to be good between you two again…”

  I was quiet for a few sips of tea. I studied the room, still surprised at how quiet and mellow it was inside. “I-I’ve just been lied to a lot…you know? It’s disappointing.” I sighed and shook my head.

  “But what does all that mean?” Naomi said. “You won’t give him another chance?”

  “I want to…when I get over it. If I get over it, I guess.” I shrugged, uncomfortable with being so vulnerable with someone I’d basically just met.

  Naomi nodded as if she approved of my choice. “Good, then take whatever time you need. Anthony will likely go crazy, but the good part about that is, he’ll be ready to do anything you say when you’re ready to talk to him again.”

  I smirked, imagining him being my manservant for a good while. “I could have fun with that.”

  “I’d recommend chores around the house while in a maid’s uniform first, then take pictures and send them to me please. It’d be perfect blackmail material,” she said.

  We steered away from the Anthony talk for a while, which I appreciated, and talked about regular things like any budding friends would.

  When I got home, I let my brain take a break from working on overload and laid on the couch with Huevos. He curled up on my belly, purring riotously. My phone rang, and I was tempted to throw it under the couch, thinking it was Anthony, but I glanced at the screen and saw Jazz’s name.

  “Hey,” I said, smiling.

  “You sound beat. Are you still recovering from our Thanksgiving’s drink-for-all?” Jazz laughed.

  I sighed. “Girl… Where to begin?”

  “What happened?” Jazz said, her tone immediately concerned. I had avoided talking to the girls precisely because I didn’t want to hear someone say I told you so…but actively lying was another thing altogether. It just wasn’t done. I’d have to come clean.

  “Everything happened. I… Anthony and I…” I took a breath and launched into the story, stopping before my tea with Naomi. Jazz was quiet for a while afterward—understandably so. I’d basically taken a mini-saga of horse-crap and just dumped it on her. That was the second time in just a few hours that I was telling the tale.

  “Well…shit,” she said, finally.

  I laughed with barely any humor in my tone. “Yeah, I… Whew, now I’m going back and forth wondering if he’s just another guy in my tragic pattern of relationships.”

  “Anthony is not just another guy, and you know it,” Jazz said, stopping my train of thought completely.

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “You love him, and he loves you. He admitted that before you could say the same, remember? Out of all the guys you’ve dated, who has done that?”

  I sat up and curled a lock of hair around my finger. “Well…”

  “Exactly. I think he just made a stupid mistake for fear of hurting you, like he said. There’s no reason not to believe him.”

  “But, Jazz…”

  “Beth, you’re letting your past get the better of you. Honestly. Anthony is human, and he’s his own person. He’s not another version of the douche bag string of guys you used to date, so don’t compare him to them. Compare him to the track record he’s laid for himself. He’s never hurt you before. He’s annoyed you, sure, but that was just half-playfulness anyway. You were head over heels for the guy a couple days ago, so don’t end it on something so small.” Jazz took a breath finally.

  I smiled. “Thanks, Jazz. Damn. You’re definitely right. I’m just…scared, I guess.”

  “Well that’s how you know it’s real, right? I don’t think he’ll let you down. He might disappoint you here and there but that’s because he’s human, right? I don’t think he’ll let you go and that’s what matters. Love is real to him, and you’ve spent long enough looking for that in a man. He made it through my radar and Cara’s. At some point you’ve got to realize that maybe you’re the one who bails too quickly.”

  “Damn, Jazz,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I wasn’t thinking about that at all.”

  “Well, that’s why I’m here, Loca! To tell you how it is. I don’t want you to give up a good one. I can tell, he’s a good one because he’s good for you.”

  “Okay, okay,” I said and swallowed back the tears pricking the corners of my eyes. “Yeah, I mean…I don’t really want to lose him.”

  “Good, then don’t! Stop with all of this and just talk to him,” Jazz said, her voice gradually softening.

  I laughed. “You’re right. You’re right…but I just need a bit of time. Thanks, Jazz, really.”

  “Of course, Loca. You know I’ve got your back. If this is real, he’ll be there when you’re ready.”

  ***

  I woke up Monday morning with three missed calls from Anthony, voicemails to go with each, and about ten text messages. Instantly, I felt tired, and I hadn’t even opened his messages yet. They went ignored until I was out the door, headed to work. His texts asked me to call him. I didn’t listen to the voicemails until I got on the subway.

  Hey…good morning, the first message started. He sounded hesitant, and his voice was hoarse as if he’d just woken up. I felt a weird pang in my chest…it was like the ghost sensation of his warmth pressed against my back in the morning. Already, I missed him. I know you wanted time, but I can’t wait. I miss you. I want to talk to you. Call me back, please?

  I clicked to the next mes
sage, Hey, I know I just called and everything, but, um …maybe we could have lunch today? I really need to talk to you.” He hung up after a sigh. The next one was even more abrupt. Hope I’m not blocked or anything, but we really have to talk. I kinda…ah, I need help with something.

  Confused, I looked at my phone and texted him, Help with what? Of course, the message didn’t go through until I got off of the subway and was headed towards The Post’s newsstand. I stopped there before going in to work to pick up a paper I knew was running some of my material. I had a couple of columns that should have printed the night before.

  As I thumbed through the newspaper at the stand, my phone rang, and one glance at the screen told me it was Anthony. I hesitated, but then answered. “Hi.”

  “Thank God, hi,” he said, sounding way too relieved that I answered.

  “What’s up?” I said, feeling awkward and wanting to get off of the phone with him.

  “Can we have lunch? To talk about something…?”

  “Why are you being so cryptic? Just tell me what it is,” I said and showed the newsstand cashier my badge before walking away with the paper.

  “I couldn’t get another interview with Fitzwales,” he said. My first instinct was to laugh, not to be malicious, but because I’d kind of seen the situation coming. Fitzwales had made it clear that he wasn’t all that partial to Anthony. I didn’t even know what to say as I passed through the building’s double doors and walked to the security check.

  “How am I supposed to help you with that?” I asked. I got through security and hurried to the closing elevator. I slipped inside, and thankfully it wasn’t crammed. I pressed the button for the floor I was headed to.

  “He won’t see me again because of some bad experience the last time we interviewed. Which, the only thing I can think of is the fact that I interrupted when you were speaking with him. Were you able to get another interview?”

  “Yeah, I was,” I said. The elevator stopped and the four other people who were there stepped off. I leaned against the wall and waited while it coasted upward. “You want me to try and talk to him for you, is that it?” I almost smiled, and I couldn’t believe he was coming to me with this. I didn’t want to mix up our work together anymore.

  “I can’t include anything about the Common Templars if I don’t get his statements on the society and his involvement. It just won’t seem credible,” he said.

  “Seems like all the hell you put me through when we were starting on this is coming back to bite you,” I said. I couldn’t help it—the petty in me had to say something.

  “I deserve it,” he said, surprising me. I’d fully expected him to say something snarky in return, now it made me feel bad for him. A tiny voice in my head wondered if he was manipulating me. The elevator doors opened, and I waved to the receptionist, and then hurried to my office.

  “If you could just mention my name to him, Beth, that would be a great help. You don’t even have to try and get me a meeting with him,” Anthony said.

  I pursed my lips, sat behind my desk, and thought about it. “I’ll let you know tomorrow, if anything. That’s when I’ll have coffee with him.”

  “Can I see you tomorrow for after coffee, coffee?”

  It was a dorky line, but I cracked a smile anyway. “We’ll see.”

  “Cool, this…ah, this really means a lot, Beth,” he said. It would mean a lot for his feature, that’s for sure. Part of me didn’t want to do it but suddenly I realized I had the power to ruin his feature…or the credibility of it anyway. I was petty, sure, but not evil. I couldn’t do that to him.

  “Yeah, Anthony, listen—I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  “Sure, yeah, of course. Bye, Beth.”

  We got off of the phone and I focused on my writing. Around lunch time, a bouquet of roses and a sandwich from my favorite shop was messengered to the office. The note in the flowers said, I love you, B. Again, part of me melted at the gesture, and the other part couldn’t help but to wonder if he was just trying to butter me up in order to get what he wanted.

  ***

  Jonathan Fitzwales sat across from me, candidly, at a coffee shop not too far from the theater where he was acting. He wasn’t fazed at all by the number of people coming and going who’d recognized him and kept interrupting us. At starry eyed woman number twenty though, I was getting fed up.

  “I’m sorry, but, how do you live like this?” I said, laughing.

  He shrugged, his blue eyes lit from all the attention. “I love it. It’s why I do what I do. Talking to everyone as opposed to being famous is what I find pleasure in.” He ran his hand through his silky blond locks and sipped from his coffee cup.

  I knew my time was running short, and I hadn’t even asked him about the secret society. “I’m not sure if our intern mentioned what I wanted to talk about this time? It might be a bit private,” I said in a low voice. Never in the history of the city was there a quieter coffee shop. I felt as though we were on stage as all the surrounding tables kept quiet and sent furtive glances Jonathan’s way.

  “She didn’t, she said it was a follow-up?”

  “Right, so I found out some things about you and a society, the Common Templars?”

  Jonathan smiled and didn’t seem surprised. “Yes, Nathan told me about the arrangement you have with that other journalist, Anthony Preston, no?” His voice was low as he leaned forward so that I would hear him better.

  “Right, an old arrangement…” I said. Jonathan tilted his head and waited for me to explain, but I didn’t. “So, I wanted to hear your story. How you learned about the society, when and why you joined, and what you do within its ranks.”

  “Sure,” Jonathan said, as he glanced at the ceiling, apparently thinking back. He launched into the story, and I took notes as he spoke, highlighting which stories he was particularly animated about. Though I had pen and paper, I also had my phone on the table recording him.

  When he was done, I’d forgotten all about the annoying people who’d interrupted us. He’d given me exactly what I needed for my feature. I wanted to protect the information I’d gotten and keep it for my article rather than get Anthony another interview and risk him getting the exact same information.

  “Does that sum it all up?” Jonathan asked, as I scribbled some last-minute points to remember.

  “Yes, this was a fascinating talk. You’re a lot more philanthropic than people realize,” I said.

  He inclined his head, actually blushing from the comment. “I don’t really like to advertise what I do for my community and others whom I care about. But, the secret society does have an intrigue to it. I believe, as well as Nathan, that the Common Templars deserve some clearing up, you know? We don’t get together and feast on owl hearts or anything.” He laughed.

  “Yeesh, yeah, I can’t believe people have been making up things like that about you guys. They couldn’t be more wrong.” I put my phone and notepad away.

  “Exactly. So, did you need anything else, Beth? I’ll be in town for another month after closing night,” he said, smiling at me with more than polite professionalism. A cute hopefulness existed in the way that he looked at me. It caught me off guard, and the first thing to pop into my head was Anthony’s face, of course. I really did love him, despite everything.

  “Ah, yeah, I think I’ve got everything,” I said. “Actually, I was wondering if I could mention something for Anthony,” I said on a whim. I hadn’t planned to bring it up because I was still so upset with him, but fuck, I did love him, and I didn’t want to ruin his feature because of pettiness.

  Jonathan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. His eyes were a little less animated than before. “He wants a follow up interview, too, correct?”

  “Right,” I said with a pitiful smile, hoping he’d agree to it.

  “Honestly, I don’t understand how this works. Two separate papers, working together to tell the same story?”

  “It’s more like sharing a source to present informatio
n from two different perspectives, so…they’re both true, they’re just different.”

  “How different would his feature be from yours?” Jonathan asked.

  “Honestly, I don’t know, but you can always tell him to ask different questions if you don’t want to share the same things,” I said. Jonathan smiled at me, as if he’d read between the lines.

  “Alright, fine, call him up and tell him I can meet him in my dressing room in half an hour. There’s a cast meeting at eleven, so he has until then to catch me.”

  “Great, thank you so much Jonathan. It was really cool getting to write this feature on you,” I said and stood, and he stood with me.

  “The pleasure is mine, and, by the way, you’re one of the better journalists I’ve worked with,” he said. I smiled, pleasantly surprised by the compliment. “I wish you all the best, Beth.” He extended his hand, and I intended to shake it but instead, he kissed the back of it like some old gentleman knight. I pretty much stood there in awe as he picked up his coffee and his scarf in one motion and made a grand exit, gracefully striding out of the shop.

  “No wonder he’s in the drama business,” I said. I fished my phone out of my bag and took a breath before I dialed Anthony’s number.

  He answered on the first ring, “Hey, how’s it going?” His voice was eager and curious. I could almost imagine the expression on his face.

  “Good, actually, I just finished talking to Jonathan. He said you can come by his dressing room right now, or before eleven.” I left the shop and headed for the office.

  Anthony paused for a second, and then asked, “Are you serious?”

  I sighed. I wondered if he didn’t think I’d mention him to Jonathan. Honestly, I hadn’t known either until I’d been in the moment. I can thank Jazz for steering me in the right direction. It was time to act like a grown-up and leave the pettiness and rivalries behind. “Yes, I’m serious. It’s not a setup. Obviously, wear your press badge to the theater, so they can let you in backstage.”