New Amsterdam: Julia

by Ashley Pullo

  Julia lets out an exhausted sigh as she wanders the aisles of the shop. It amazes her how people gladly reveal too much information in casual conversation. Maybe her face is pleasant and non-judgmental, like the opposite of a resting bitch face, or maybe she’s an expert at subjectively asking the right questions – but for whatever reason, people love to spill every detail of their lives when she doesn’t care. Except Theo – he’s more interested in her story.

  Without hesitating, Julia turns back to the display table, picks up a copy of Gilbert Pierce’s latest novel, and with her chest held high, rushes straight to the cashier.

  “Maybe I’m a hopeless romantic, but I believe in the fantasy. A fantasy in which my wedding surpasses all the other grand social events in New York City – because I have my perfect prince, an exquisite china pattern, and an upcoming spread in the New York Herald.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Are the guests actually taking picnic baskets to the beach? I want to see!” Heather stands from her makeup chair and patters toward the large bedroom window of the master suite. She stretches to her tip toes, angling her body to peer down at the private beach. “I see people! Oh, wow, they’re having picnics!” she exclaims.

  “Heather, we need to finish your hair while the photographer is here,” the stylist barks.

  “Coming,” she replies, as she makes her way back to the stylist’s chair. Smiling from ear to ear, she tightens the sash of her robe and laughs. “Today is going to be so amazing!”

  “Sit, please.”

  “Have you seen Dennis today?” asks Heather, twisting in the chair.

  The stylist shakes her head as she sections off Heather’s hair. “Haven’t seen him.”

  “Mom, have you seen Dennis?”

  Sitting on the sofa and sipping a mimosa, her mother slurs, “I saw him earlier this morning – hair of the dog if you ask me.”

  “I told him not to stay out too late. I bet his friends took him to McGregor’s Pub – Dennis will have such a headache!” Heather flutters her fingers and says, “Mindy, how are we doing on the schedule? And where are the bridesmaids? And what about Julia Pierce – is she here?”

  Mindy Hollis-Klein, wedding planner extraordinaire, hops from her perch in the corner and comes to Heather’s side. “Everything is running smoothly, dear. Breakfast was a success, and the guests loved the artisan jams and honey with their baked goods.” Mindy opens a photo on her phone and shows Heather. “See?”

  “That’s gorgeous! And oh my, that croissant looks so delicious – I’m famished.”

  “You can eat tonight, Heather,” her mother says, hiccupping.

  “The bridesmaids are finishing up at the beach and will dress in the next room. Pre-ceremony pictures will be in two hours. And no, no word of Julia Pierce’s arrival.”

  Surviving on adrenaline and lemon water, Heather sinks into her chair and exhales in relief. After all the months dieting, the fights with Dennis, the lame bachelorette party, the costly mishaps, and the drama from her dysfunctional family, Heather’s fantasy wedding has finally arrived, and everyone is here to make her dream come true.

  And yet . . .

  Her bridesmaids are currently on the beach, chowing on lobster rolls and imported beer. Her stylist is charging by the minute. Her mother is drunk. Her father is playing poker. Her sister is screwing a groomsman. Her brother is smoking weed in the catering van. Her Aunt Clara is allergic to shellfish and clutching her throat. Her high school boyfriend is parking the cars. And her soon-to-be husband is scrubbing his dick for the third time, ridding himself of the dirty skank he met at the Hoochie Coochie All-Night Revue.

  “Heather, I’m going to pop outside to check on the ceremony,” Mindy declares.

  “Make sure the chairs are placed on a curve like we discussed.”

  “Yes, the vendor has a copy of the layout.”

  “And Pastor Phil – is he here?” asks the bride.

  “I will find Pastor Phil.” She nods.

  “And make sure my father wears the tie I chose for him.”

  “On my list. Now relax, Heather!”

  Heather pops up in her chair, loosening the small braid in her hair. “And Julia Pierce – I want her to be treated as my VIP guest.”

  Mindy steps outside the master suite of the guest house and gently closes the door. She looks left and right, uncertain of the correct hall to take to the main living area. Choosing the left, she removes her phone and begins a round of panicked texts to her assistants.

  Mindy: Where is the bride’s father?

  Mindy: Have you seen the pastor?

  Mindy: Why is there an ambulance pulling into the driveway of the guest house?

  Staring out a large bay window at the end of the hall, Mindy watches as an ambulance veers off the driveway toward the beach, steamrolling a garden of hydrangeas in the process. She growls and stomps her foot. “Fucking shit!”

  Stacy: Bride’s father is in the game room finishing up a round of poker. He seems happy.

  Mindy: Drag him out and make sure he’s dressed in the purple silk tie.

  Robert: Pastor arrived five minutes ago.

  Mindy: Offer him some lunch in the kitchen.

  Mindy taps her foot, impatiently waiting for the responses from her staff.

  Mindy: Ambulance?

  Stacy: Something happened on the beach.

  Mindy: I’m waiting.

  Robert: Shellfish allergy. An older woman is being placed inside the ambulance.

  Mindy: DO NOT LET THEM TREAT HER HERE.

  Stacy: I’m on it.

  Continuing to the kitchen of the guest house, Mindy grabs a mimosa from the island, and then stuffs a mini quiche in her mouth. Removing her heels and sitting at the large farmhouse table, she dials the contact number of Julia Pierce.

  Miles away, stepping off the North Ferry, Julia removes her earbuds and smiles at the taxi driver flagging her down.

  “You headed to the wedding?” he asks, his voice as salty as the air.

  “Yes!”

  “Hop in.” The cab driver takes her bags and places them in the trunk as Julia climbs into the backseat to answer her phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Ms. Pierce, hello!” Mindy chirps. “Have you arrived safely on the island?”

  “I’m currently in a cab – I should be there soon.”

  “A taxi! No, no, no. I arranged for a car to pick you up.”

  “It’s really not necessary,” Julia says.

  “Nonsense. You are our very special guest this weekend.”

  She cracks her window and then replies, “I’m honored.”

  “Be sure to find me as soon as you arrive.”

  “Of course.” She closes her phone and gazes out the window. Growing up on Long Island, she ventured to all the beaches of the North Fork, but never truly experienced the beauty and the diverse landscape like Shelter Island. “It’s so gorgeous out here,” she exclaims.

  “Oh, yeah, yep, the fishing village of the rich and famous,” the driver jokes.

  “Do you know the wedding family?”

  “No, nah, nope. But everyone ’round here knows about the wedding. The motel is booked solid the entire weekend. Even got a shuttle to run them folks back and forth.”

  “Oh, wow,” Julia replies.

  The car slows and makes a right turn on a secluded road. Flanked by trees for at least a mile, the path suddenly opens to a gap of radiant sunshine. A large, circular driveway is filled with cars and vendor trucks, so the driver pulls up to the valet stand and rolls down his window.

  “Hey, Jimmy,” he shouts.

  A young valet approaches the cab and leans against the back door. “Hey, Bill.”

  “I have a lovely lady that needs some help with her bags.”

  “Oh, I can get them inside,” Julia interrupts.

  “Pop the trunk, Bill.” The valet slaps the roof of the car and then walks to the back.

  “How much for the trip?” she asks, search
ing for a meter.

  “Eh, you’re covered.”

  “Oh, okay then. Thank you.” Julia exits the cab and nods to the valet.

  He throws her hanging bag over his shoulder and carries the satchel bag like a dainty little purse. “Are you staying here tonight?” he asks as he approaches a group of young women by the front door.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Your name?” A pretty young woman wearing a headset smiles and then opens an app on her iPad.

  “Hello, I’m Julia Pierce.”

  The trio of women freeze, unable to remember the standard procedures for an arriving guest. Julia smiles and raises her eyebrows.

  “Ms. Pierce! We spoke on the phone – I’m Stacy, Mindy’s personal assistant. I’ll be happy to show you to your room. Jimmy, follow me,” she instructs.

  “This house is amazing,” Julia compliments, taking in the high ceilings and French-country furnishings. “How many guests are staying here tonight?”

  “The main estate has fifteen bedrooms, and the guest cottage has an additional three bedrooms.”

  “Impressive,” replies Julia, climbing the stairs.

  “You’ll be on the second floor, first door on the right, as you reach the top of the stairs. There’s no key unfortunately, but you can lock your door from the inside. Oh, and you have your own bathroom.”

  As they reach the landing of the massive flight of stairs, Julia glances below to the first floor. It would only take one misstep, and she’d be rolling down those carpeted steps like Scarlett O’Hara.

  “Here we are,” Stacy announces, opening the door to the bedroom.

  Admiring the knotted pine furniture, and the cranberry toile bedding, Julia says, “It’s lovely – just like a provençal cottage.”

  Jimmy places the hanging bag on a small rack inside an armoire, and then sets Julia’s satchel on a vintage luggage rack. “Have a great time,” he offers before ducking out of the room.

  “Guests are finishing up a picnic lunch on the beach. The ceremony will be held in the garden, out the back doors, past the pool, and then immediately to your right. Cocktails will be served poolside, and then the reception will be on the north lawn at dusk.”

  “Thank you, Stacy. This is by far the most extravagant wedding I’ve attended.”

  Beaming proudly, she says, “Ohmygosh, Mindy and Heather will be so delighted to hear. Welcome, again, Ms. Pierce. And if there’s anything you need, ask for me directly.”

  “Will do. Oh, is there Wi-Fi?”

  “Yes! BartlebyGuest123 is available throughout the house, and a few spots by the pool.”

  As Stacy leaves the bedroom, Julia removes her laptop from her bag and mumbles under her breath. “Picnics, cocktails, and Wi-Fi, oh my!” She falls onto the queen-size bed and kicks of her heels, regretting her choice of cute footwear. Rolling to her side, she pulls out her cell phone and calls Meredith.

  “Hey, Jules. How’s the mega-wedding?” Meredith asks.

  “Colossal.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “You’d have to be insane to want this much razzle dazzle.”

  “Bad mood?”

  “Tired, I guess.”

  “Put on a smile and do your job.”

  “So, how are things with Bradley?” Julia eases into the question gently.

  “Nice segue.” She laughs. “Baby steps, but we’re moving forward. When you open a conversation in a relationship, put everything out on the table, there are a shitload of unresolved issues to tackle, but it’s very liberating.”

  “So you’re okay?”

  “Yes! I love him more than ever,” she shouts.

  “And I love her like crazy,” Bradley interjects from the background.

  Staring at the crystal light fixture dangling from above, Julia says, “Mere, I have to ask you something.”

  “Yeah?”

  “If you could only have one must-have at your wedding, what would it be?”

  “Huh?”

  “Oh, it’s for a blog interview,” she lies.

  “What blog?”

  “I can’t remember – it’s a French online magazine.” Julia traces the outline of a rooster on the toile duvet. “Je Suis Moi,” she blurts.

  “Liar, liar, pantaloons on fire. You realize your voice changes when you lie – it’s like a mouse high on weed.”

  “Humor me.”

  Meredith sighs, but ultimately plays along. “Champagne. My dress. And my Nana.”

  “Those are great answers. I love you, Mere.”

  “Ditto. Now go mingle with those rich bastards – maybe there’ll be a sugar daddy in your future.”

  Hanging up with her friend, Julia sits up on the bed and scrolls through the text thread with Theo. Pausing on a link he sent, she decides to click it. Her phone goes dark and then opens to the interior of Theo’s apartment. She squints her eyes and mumbles, “Is that Fletch?”

  A dark shadow runs across the screen, and then he pops his little head into the picture. “What the heck?” Fletch cocks his head to one side, licking what she assumes is a small camera. Closing the link, Julia calls Theo.

  “Hey, Jules,” answers Theo.

  “Hey! So what’s with this link to your apartment? Is that a live feed?”

  “Yep, that’s my version of a Nanny-cam.”

  “You’re crazy, Theo Barnes.”

  “Wait, I’m walking in the door right now. Can you open the link again?”

  “Hang on,” she says, opening her laptop and typing in the private address. “I think I need a password?”

  “For your computer, yes. Use the word brawndo in all caps.”

  “Idiocracy?” she asks.

  “Only my favorite movie.”

  “I’ll need to watch it someday.”

  “Girl, I got the Blue-ray special edition and the original DVD. We’ll watch it tomorrow night after our date.”

  Shaking her head, she types in the password and it immediately takes her to a live shot of Fletch, sniffing the camera.

  “I’m unlocking the door now.” Fletch hops off the desk and patters away, shaking his stubby tail. “Hello, gorgeous,” Theo says, leaning against the sofa with his phone to his ear and a small shopping bag by his side.

  “Hi! I can see you! How can I see you?”

  “I installed a camera on top of my computer and programmed it to send a live feed to the website host. It’s not really rocket science, Jules.”

  “So I can watch what’s going on in your apartment whenever I want?” asks Julia, cuddling with the bed pillows. “Wait, can you see me as well?”

  “Nope – this isn’t Skype. Sheesh.” Theo pretends to be annoyed, but his adorable, crooked grin always wins the battle of expression. “But if you don’t believe me, get naked and we can test it out.”

  Get naked first, she thinks. “So you’re like a cam boy?”

  “It was designed as a way to watch Fletch play.” Theo walks toward the camera and leans into it. “But we can take this in a whole other direction, if that’s what you’re into.” He waggles his brows and unzips his hoodie.

  Laughing, Julia says, “I have to get ready for the wedding ceremony, but I’m not feeling it.”

  “What happens if you ditch it?”

  “They’ll know.” The feed on Julia’s laptop screen goes black, so she checks the battery and then asks, “What happened? I can’t see you.”

  “Because I turned off the camera. Fletch and I are taking a walk to get some bubble tea, so the apartment will be empty.”

  Julia closes her eyes, imagining Theo in a tight T-shirt, meandering through the Saturday crowds toward Chinatown. “I’m jealous.”

  “Seriously, how is that weird shit so good? You got me hooked last year, ya know.”

  Glancing at a ceramic table clock, she says, “Crap, it’s almost three. I really need to get dressed.”

  “Damn, I should’ve installed the camera app on your laptop,” mumbles Theo.

  “Are you joki
ng? I can’t tell if you’re joking – can you see me Theo?”

  “Ah, I guess you’ll have to trust me.”

  Standing at a tall cocktail table and scribbling some notes, Mindy approaches Julia and taps on her shoulder. “Ms. Pierce?” she asks.

  “Hi. You must be Mindy!” Closing her small notebook and sliding it back inside her clutch, Julia adds, “I’m so impressed with your ability to deliver such a large-scale wedding. This has been amazing.”

  “I’m truly flattered.” Mindy places her hand on her heart and sighs. “But I can’t take all the credit – I simply carried out Heather’s vision of her dream wedding.”

  “It’s quite a vision indeed,” she agrees.

  “Just wait until you see the reception.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Oh, if you’ll excuse me, I need to gather the wedding party for the photographer.”

  “Of course,” she replies with a straight smile.

  Sipping a glass of white wine, Julia surveys the guests socializing by the pool. Banking on the likelihood that some poor bastard trips over the granite edge and splashes into the water, she pegs a man in his late-forties, flailing his arms and rocking back on his heels as he chats with a group of women. Julia laughs into her glass of wine, thoroughly enjoying her wicked imagination. She removes a small notebook from her clutch and then continues to evaluate the homogenous party guests.

  They’re all the same – hollow personalities dressed in designer clothes, regaling stories about yachts and trips to Italy . . . but not him.

  Standing on the opposite end of the swimming pool is a rakishly handsome, yet ruggedly sexy, mysterious guest. He’s watching Julia with an amused grin, challenging her to a battle of presumptions. Julia returns a wily smile, marking him as someone that doesn’t quite belong – like a young Harrison Ford crashing a tea party. Crossing his arms, he nods once, waits for her to return the gesture, and then turns his back to disappear into the crowd.

  Shrugging it off, Julia heads back to her guest room to grab a shawl. She carefully climbs the grand staircase, writhing in her heels as she sinks into the plush carpet. Inside her room, she removes a cashmere shawl from the wardrobe, and checks her makeup in the Louis XIV vanity mirror. As she reapplies her lipstick, she catches a glimpse of her laptop sitting on her bed, tempting her. Unable to resist the urge for a quick peek, she sits on the bed and clicks on the live feed. After typing in the password, Theo and Fletch appear on the screen, huddled together on the leather couch watching the Mets at Dodgers Stadium.