I Heart New York

by Lindsey Kelk

  Waking up on Saturday morning, I couldn’t believe it was a week since I’d woken up in my own bed. So much had happened in such a short space of time and yet, as soon as I remembered my date with Alex was later that evening, time seemed to start going backwards. It was Jenny’s first twenty-four hours off duty in over a week, meaning she would pretty much be asleep for fourteen hours. She’d made some halfhearted offers to take me out when she got in from work, but the girl was dead on her stylishly shod feet, so I’d let her off. I went out to get breakfast, washed up, cleaned the kitchen, scoured the bathroom and took all my clothes to the dry cleaners. It seemed insane to me that practically no one in the entire city did their own washing, but Jenny assured me only the hyper rich had a laundry room, and taking your washing out was perfectly normal. I managed to contain a mild panic attack over what to do when you wanted to wear something the very next day when it was dirty after Jenny had presented me with a bottle of hand-washing liquid for emergencies. And I had pretended not to notice her kicking several half-empty bottles of Febreze under the sink. So they had that here too…

  For the want of something to do with myself, I was showered, blow-dried and dressed in a cute Ella Moss stripy mini dress by five-thirty, giving me a whole hour and a half to apply my make-up, reapply my make-up, add some more make-up, and then completely shit myself about going on a date with someone in a band. Boosted by a quick home-mixed margarita and a kiss–both from a very sleepy Jenny, I grabbed my bag and braced myself. My heart beat sped up as I shut the door behind me and stepped out to hail a cab. I checked my phone a grand total of eight times in the cab, just in case. Nothing from Alex to cancel, nothing to confirm, but there was a sweet voice message from Tyler saying what a great night he’d had and that he would pick me up outside my building at six-thirty on Sunday.

  Max Brenner’s was tucked away on Broadway, just opposite the Virgin Megastore. At least, I can see The Union from here in case things don’t go well, I told myself as I pushed myself out of the cab, The doors to Max Brenner’s opened to reveal a huge Charlie and the Chocolate Factory style chocolate lab. Absolutely not what I had expected. Absolutely not the place for the amount of eyeliner I was wearing. And the first place in all of New York that was incredibly brightly lit. Shit. Sitting right in the middle of the whispering mothers and staring fathers, was Alex. I couldn’t imagine a more incongruous scene. His black hair looked as though it hadn’t seen a brush or a comb, well, ever, the creases in his green T-shirt had creases, and compared to ‘weekend dad’ and ‘let’s get chocolate shakes for dessert! mom’ he looked as if he might start shooting up any second. Out of place, maybe, a complete scruff, definitely, and hot? Absolutely. He broke into a slow smile and a wave as he recognized me, my heart apparently the only muscle in my body able to move. If my pulse had been racing when I left the apartment, it was positively making a break for freedom now.

  ‘Hey,’ he said as I slid into the booth, finally forcing my feet to move one in front of the other. ‘You made it.’

  ‘I did,’ I said, checking the clock. Late again. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t remember exactly where this was.’

  ‘Cool,’ he was still smiling. I started to worry that he was stoned.

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought this was your sort of place,’ I said, glancing around at the churning vats of chocolate. ‘It’s not that rock and roll, is it?’

  ‘No,’ he said, taking his turn to glance around. ‘But addiction is pretty rock and roll, and I might not broadcast it, but I have a real problem with hot chocolate. Seriously, you won’t believe this stuff until you’ve tried it.’

  I picked up the menu and looked through all the treats, hot chocolate, milk, dark, white, with chilli, with nutmeg, with cinnamon, chocolate ice cream, chocolate pizza–all this chocolate and a really hot man from a band? There was such a good chance I was in heaven, I wondered if I’d been run over on the way there.

  ‘Wow,’ I said, looking back up at him. If he carried on staring at me with that little smile, I was going to run out of things to say really soon. ‘So you’re a chocoholic?’

  ‘Guilty as charged,’ he nodded, raising a weird shaped mug with no handle. ‘I blame it on the band. You feel like you’ve got to be in rehab for something sooner or later, or you’re just not committed to the music.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ I said, starting to panic. What were we going to talk about? I hadn’t prepared anything at all. This was such a bad idea.

  ‘Everyone’s got their dirty little secrets,’ he said, swirling the thick chocolaty soup in the bottom of his mug. ‘You want to confess to yours?’

  ‘I’m a bit tame,’ I admitted, feeling a blush creep up over my face. ‘Since I got to New York, it’s been Ring Dings. At home, I’m a Cadbury’s Creme Egg girl. Sometimes, I’ll eat three. All at once.’

  ‘Wow, that is close to the edge,’ he laughed, waving over the waitress and ordering two regular hot chocolates. Was I not going to be allowed to order anything for myself while I was in this city? ‘Although I’m not sure you should be telling me that. Wouldn’t it be against your friend’s rules?’

  ‘I believe you are referring to “The Rules”, and I don’t know. Would that come under “Don’t tell him anything that would scare him away” or “Don’t overeat”?’

  ‘Possibly “Do not reveal any sort of personality of any kind for fear of him not having one of his own”.’

  I nodded, biting my lip to stop myself from smiling too much. Maybe I just wasn’t ever going to be able to play by Erin’s rules.

  ‘So, how long have you been in New York?’ he asked, propping himself up on the table with his elbows.

  ‘Just a week,’ I said. As much as I wanted to think of something to talk to Alex about, I really didn’t think I could go through it all again. ‘I’m staying with my friend in Murray Hill.’

  ‘And you’re “sort of” on vacation?’ he sat back as the drinks arrived at our table. Oh no, now I had to navigate through a hot chocolate moustache and an awkward conversation with a very sexy, cool man. It was the cool that was throwing me, I knew it. Tyler was super sexy, but it never felt that if I said the wrong thing, he would go home to some downtown loft and sit laughing at me with members of The Strokes. Maybe I was putting too much thought into this.

  ‘Well, apart from the sort of vacation, I’m doing this online writing thing for The Look magazine,’ I said, so proud of myself for finding a reason to be there that didn’t involve breaking someone’s hand. ‘So I’m here for a couple of months or so.’

  ‘That’s cool,’ he said. ‘I love New York, but I don’t know how you can leave London. It’s such a great city.’

  ‘Are you kidding?’ I asked, making a brave go at drinking and talking at the same time. ‘New York is so amazing. It makes me feel like…like I’m really living, you know? It makes me want to do new things and just discover every inch of it. See everything there is to see.’

  ‘And London doesn’t?’ he asked, brushing his hair back off his forehead. I sipped my hot chocolate. Definitely in heaven.

  ‘When I was young, we lived about an hour away from London by train and all I wanted to do, was be in the city,’ I explained, trying not to be distracted by his eyes. They were so green. ‘And then when I got there, it was like, wow, London! But after a while, it starts to drain you. Everything is such hard work, everything is so expensive, the Tube costs about five times as much as the subway, and when I get home, I just feel like I need a shower right away. I don’t know, there are things I love about London and there are things I can take or leave.’

  ‘You’ll get to feeling that way about New York eventually.’

  ‘Can’t imagine it,’ I said, smiling my first easy, genuine smile. ‘God, I feel like I’m cheating on London. I do love it, I just needed a break I think, I’m just tired of London.’

  ‘When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life,’ Alex quoted.

  I stared back at him, smiling. ‘I’ve got an Engli
sh degree, I know my Samuel Johnson. But how do you?’

  ‘Well, I might be American but,’ he leaned over and whispered, ‘I read. Don’t tell anyone.’

  ‘I give you my Brownie Guide promise,’ I saluted. This was getting easier, but he was still much much cooler than I would ever be. ‘Have you always lived in New York then?’

  He nodded. ‘My family is from upstate but I always wanted to come to the city, same as you, I guess. It just gets under your skin. I went to college in Brooklyn and never left.’

  ‘You live in Brooklyn?’ I asked, going back in for more hot chocolate. Honestly, if he stood up and walked out right now I’d still be grateful for introducing me to this place. Willy Wonkaville or not, the hot chocolate was amazing. ‘I always imagined it as being a million miles away.’

  ‘Well, to some people, three stops on the L is a million miles away.’ Alex reached over to wipe away some stray melted marshmallow from my top lip. I noticed immediately how calloused the tips of his fingers were, my lips tingled under his touch. ‘It’s only ten minutes from Union Square, but people get this whole “Manhattan is New York” thing going on. It’s not true, Brooklyn is amazing. I love living there and I could never get such a great apartment over here.’

  ‘I’ll have to trek over there and have a look.’ I bit my bottom lip to stop the buzz. ‘It hadn’t really occurred to me to go.’

  ‘Did you just invite yourself over to my place?’ he asked, eyebrows creased, smile vanishing. ‘Seriously? How forward are you?’

  ‘No, I, I meant Brooklyn,’ I faltered, squeezing my mug tightly. ‘I meant, trek over to Brooklyn and look at, stuff.’ Stuff. Nice one, Angela. I may as well have told him I’d carried a watermelon.

  ‘Because you’re welcome any time,’ he teased. ‘I just hope your friend would approve.’

  Mean, mean man.

  And I really liked it.

  ‘I don’t think I have to get permission to go into another part of town,’ I said, refusing to smile at him even though I wanted to. There were a lot of things I wanted to do at that moment in time, but I was hardly about to do them in this place.

  ‘Well, she had some pretty strict rules about that date you were going on.’ He slid out of the booth and held out his hand to help me up. We were leaving the hot chocolate already? ‘How did that go by the way? Not that great obviously, because you’re here.’

  ‘It was fine, thanks for asking,’ I said. Discussing my Tyler date with Alex would be too weird. And things were already weird enough.

  ‘You seeing him again?’ he asked, leaving a twenty-dollar bill on the table with the bill. How much was hot chocolate? Maybe I wouldn’t come back here with Jenny tomorrow.

  ‘I think this is definitely against The Rules.’

  I really didn’t know what to say. Was it normal to ask about other dates while you were on a date? But what if it wasn’t a date. Maybe he had asked me out as a friend.

  Shit!

  Was this a friend date?

  ‘Hmm,’ he was still smiling, his eyes twinkling as we walked out onto the sweaty sidewalk. I mean pavement. God, it was starting to happen already, ‘I didn’t think it would get past one date.’

  ‘And why not?’ I asked. I wasn’t refusing to look at him this time, I just couldn’t. I was so embarrassed.

  ‘You knew you were going out with me tonight,’ he said, stopping and standing close to me. ‘And I couldn’t stop thinking about it so I figured you would be feeling the same.’ He leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips. It was chocolaty and gentle and electric. I wasn’t going to need to bolt to The Union for refuge after all, but at this rate, I was going to need to get a room. I hoped Jenny or Van would give me a good rate. Did they run any rooms by the hour?

  ‘The gig isn’t that far, you want to walk?’ he asked, pulling away and taking my hand in his. At least I knew it was definitely a date.

  ‘Walking’s good,’ I managed, replaying the kiss in my head. I couldn’t help but compare it to Tyler’s. His kisses had been firm and insistent, yet tender at the same time. Alex’s kiss was so gentle and soft, but absolutely full of confidence. And it made me want so many more.

  We wandered down Broadway, talking about our families, our friends, what we wanted to achieve. I managed to turn my blog at The Look into a six-book deal and a film, while Alex talked about creating scores for movies, acting and a passion for architecture, but he hardly mentioned the band.

  ‘That’s a pretty full agenda,’ I said, loving the feeling of holding hands. ‘How are you going to manage all that and put a new album out?’

  ‘Good question,’ he replied. ‘Who knows if there will be another album? I’m sort of putting the whole thing on hold at the moment. We’re just a little wiped out and I don’t know if I can carry the whole thing right now. We’ve been together for like, eight years when you add in all the time before we were signed. Gets to a point where you just want to do something else.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ I said, trying not to sound like a disappointed fan. ‘Must be hard making a group decision about something that big.’

  ‘It is,’ he agreed, ‘but once one person’s heart is out of it, it’s really all over. We’re still playing live around town, but I just don’t feel we want it like we did before. These things come to an end, like anything else. There’s nothing worse than staying when there’s nothing to stay for.’

  I walked on, nodding and thinking. It made sense. And not just about his band.

  ‘Did I say something wrong?’ he asked after our third block of silence.

  ‘Not at all.’ Rules or no rules, I really didn’t want to broach the Mark subject with him. ‘I was just thinking about how right you are. And how sometimes you just have to bite the bullet and make a change.’

  ‘Exactly,’ he gave my hand a squeeze and stopped in front of a queue of people decked out in skinny jeans, faded T-shirts and bored expressions. Looked like the queue for a gig to me. ‘Shall we?’

  ‘Hey, man,’ the gangly bouncer on the door nodded to Alex and waved us through and down some stairs into a cramped bar. I glanced around, trying to look like I belonged, while Alex talked to the girl behind the ticket counter. Across the room, a group of girls were craning their necks to get a better look and not exactly whispering about their intentions towards him. I suddenly felt defensive, how dare they say that about my date right in front of me? But somewhere, not too well hidden, I felt the tiniest bit smug. Here was this super hot man who could have had any girl in that line and he was here with me.

  ‘Hey,’ Alex called, holding the door to the main floor open. ‘You want a drink?’

  I took one last look at the girls and then turned my back. ‘I’ll get them,’ I nodded. ‘What are you having?’

  ‘Beer?’

  I took the official bar position, forearms resting on the counter, ten dollar bill in hand and slightly impatient look on my face as I tried to make eye contact with one of the bartenders. Behind the bar was a dirty old mirror, hidden behind the rows and rows of bottles. For a moment I didn’t recognize the girl standing beside Alex, all messy hair, sexy heavy eye make-up that would have looked a little bit slutty if she wasn’t working the whole look, and then I realized that slutty-looking girl was me. I didn’t know if it was the close proximity of a genuine bonafide rocker or Jenny’s fine prep work but I looked actually OK. Or maybe it was just because I was having fun. I was officially dating and having fun. Wowsers.

  A gig is a gig is a gig, I realized as we passed through to the back of the bar, up onto the (thankfully) dim, smoky main floor, New York or London. Sticky floor, crammed bar with overpriced warm beer in plastic cups, small cliques of hipsters in too tight jeans, CBGBs T-shirts, and their tiny girlfriends in equally skinny jeans. As intimidated as I felt by all the unspoken attention Alex was receiving, I felt kind of at home. This could just as easily be any small venue in London as the Bowery Ballroom in New York.

  ‘You go to a lot of gigs at
home?’ Alex asked, yelling into my ear as the first support act began thrashing at their guitars and brutally assaulting their drum kit.

  I nodded and leaned in to his ear, my nose poking through his lovely floppy hair. ‘Yeah, I used to go a lot more, but my friends aren’t really that into the same kind of music as me.’

  I didn’t tell him that in reality, none of my friends was into the same kind of music as me, and that Mark had been my only gig buddy for the last ten years. When we first moved to London, we’d gone out at least once every week, but in the last two years, he’d started complaining that the gigs went on too late, that he couldn’t sit down, that the beer was expensive and flat, and more than once in the last few months I’d sat at the back, alone after a short text to say he was working late. But that didn’t feel like something Alex needed to know right away. I wanted this to be fun.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, sipping his beer without a word of complaint. ‘Sometimes I think it’s just so much easier to go places on your own. The movies I’ve missed because I didn’t have a date.’

  I couldn’t imagine him not having a date for a second. Almost every girl in the place had checked him out on their way in and I was starting to prickle with their not so silent appraisals of me, as his date.