[Love in New York 01.0] Lost and Found

by Elle Casey

  “What?”

  I decide a ballsy statement needs to be followed up with a ballsy attitude and tone. “You heard me. I’m his fiancée. And that lousy asshole cheated on me and I want him to call me back and apologize or he’s not getting his ring back.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m completely lost right now.” Ralph sounds genuinely confused, so I take that as a good sign. My smoke screen is working. I’m awesome. I could so work in Hollywood.

  I adopt a sob-like, miserable tone. “He hasn’t returned my calls or allowed me in to see him. And I get it that we’re through, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to give you the ring and walk away.”

  “Give me the ring?”

  “Yes. That’s what he suggested, that I walk into Cartier and hand the ring over. But I don’t think that’s fair, do you?”

  “I don’t know…”

  I talk over whatever he was going to say. “It’s not. It’s completely unfair. You spend years with a guy, investing in the relationship, giving it everything you have, and then one day you find out he’s cheating on you with a girl barely eighteen and giving her jewelry that should be rightfully yours, just because you won’t do anal. I mean, is that fair? No, of course it’s not. He probably bought her those pearls from your store, the cheating bastard. And then what … I’m just out in the cold? With nothing but my gypsy skirt and a ring that’s so big it’s ridiculous? No. I don’t accept that. I want an apology. Not every girl in the world does anal. Some girls just aren’t ever going to do it, and I don’t think they should be punished for that.”

  Ralph clears his throat. I think he’s uncomfortable. “He didn’t buy any pearls from our store.”

  “So, he’s cheating on you too, then. How does it feel? Terrible, right?”

  I let that sink in a little before I continue.

  “That’s the kind of person he is, Ralph. He charms you with his smile and then when he has you hooked, he starts messing with your mind.”

  “Doctor Oliver never gave me the impression he was that kind of guy.”

  My heart nearly barfs right out of my chest, I’m so thrilled to hear that name. “Well, he is. Believe me, he is. He’s a total dirtbag who uses people and then throws them in the trash. I used to be hot, you know. Before he got his hands on me. Before he wore me down. One cell at a time, he wore me down with his little insults and comments about my weight or my hair or my clothes…” Clearly, I’ve added up all the terrible boyfriends I’ve ever had and put them into this Doctor Oliver character I’ve created. It’s almost cleansing in a way, sharing this with Ralph.

  “You’re still pretty…”

  “No, don’t lie. I’m old now. I used to be young and vibrant and healthy. Now I’m just a used up old hag at twenty-eight.”

  There’s nothing but silence on the end of the phone.

  “Ralph, are you still there?”

  “Yes. I’m not sure what you want me to do. I’m sorry about all of this stuff that happened to you, but … I think you need a therapist.”

  “A therapist? A therapist?!” I don’t know why that makes me mad, but it does. “I think a person who totally lies about his name is in need of a little therapy if you really want to know what I think.”

  “Sorry. I lie when I panic. It’s a character flaw.”

  I open my mouth to speak but then can’t. He lies when he panics? Or is he messing with me right now, calling my bluff? This guy is seriously twisted. Either that or wicked smart.

  “That’s too bad,” I say experimentally.

  He sighs. “Well, anyway, that’s my personal problem I probably shouldn’t be sharing with a client. Is there anything else I can do for you?” He sounds very tired.

  “No. I’m good.” I suddenly feel really bad for him. “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? We’re cool.”

  “We are?”

  “Yes,” I assure him.

  “Are you going to call the manager and tell him that I got involved? Because they frown on that around here.”

  “No, I’d never do that to you. I’m not the bad guy in this situation, Ralph. Dr. Oliver is. Oh, and could you just, before you hang up, tell me what his secretary said?”

  “She said that he isn’t interested.”

  I throw my hand up. “You see! Not interested. After all the years we had together…”

  “Sorry. Sounds like he’s a real douchebag. You’re probably better off without him.”

  I cannot stop smiling for the life of me. “You’re right. I am better off without him. Have a nice day.”

  “You too. Bye.”

  I hang up and do an Irish jig all around the store. Then I grab the phone book and start cursing when I realize there are at least five Doctor Olivers in Manhattan alone.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I HAVE ELIMINATED ALL BUT the last Doctor Oliver. The first one was way too old. The second one was already married. The third one was gay if his public Facebook pictures are any clue, and the fourth one was out of the country. That leaves only one guy remaining: Doctor Oliver, plastic surgeon to the rich, wealthy, powerful, famous, or all of the above.

  He works in Lenox Hill on East 76th Street. I see his name on an engraved plate affixed to the wall in the lobby. Oliver Cosmetic and Reconstructive Surgery Center. Sounds really fancy. I nod briefly at the doorman, pretending like I have the right to be here. He probably thinks I’m coming for a boob job if his glance at my chest is any indicator. As if I need one of those. Please. B cups is where it’s at, yo.

  Riding the elevator up, I’m nervous. My hands are sweating and my back starts to itch, so I lean on the wall and slide up and down a little trying to ease the pain.

  I have no plan whatsoever. The only thing I want to do is get rid of this frigging ring. The cops have no idea who took my bag, and every time I walk down the street, I imagine I’m being followed. It’s time to unload this bad luck rock, today.

  His office is at the end of a long hallway and the entrance is a double-door affair in carved wood. There’s smoky glass on either side, giving the whole thing a kind of other-worldly feel. When I step through them will I disappear into Oz? Maybe. I wonder if it will be as disappointing for me as it was for Dorothy and her crew. Better not be any flying monkeys though. Those things were crazy weird.

  I turn the handle and nothing happens. It’s locked.

  I take a step back and look around. There’s a buzzer to the right of the door, so I press it.

  “May I help you?” comes a disembodied voice over the speaker.

  “Are you The Great and Powerful Oz?” I couldn’t help myself.

  “Excuse me?”

  I giggle and then stiffen my spine, trying to control myself. “Sorry. I … um … wanted to come in, I guess.” Could I sound any stupider? No, probably not. But they threw me off having the door locked like that.

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No.” I chew my lip. I never thought about that little issue.

  “Are you a patient?”

  “No.” This is getting annoying. It took me an hour to get here and I have to get to work in less time than that.

  “Are you a rep?”

  “A rep? A rep for what?”

  There’s a long silence after my question, and I’m hoping that means she’s about to buzz me in. I chew my lip as I wait for the sound so I can push the door in. I also give my armpit a good scratch, knowing once I’m past the doors I’ll have to chill on that stuff.

  Then her voice comes back over the speaker. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to make an appointment if you want to come in.”

  I stand there with my jaw hanging off kilter for a few seconds, slowly realizing that I’m getting blocked when I’m almost to my goal.

  “Okay, I’ll make an appointment now. Book me in.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that at this time.” Her voice is getting uppity and that just makes me more mad.

  “Why not?”

  “We don’t have a
ny availability.”

  “Then why did you tell me I had to make an appointment?”

  “Because you do.”

  I seriously want to punch her door, but I hold back. Instead, I grab the door handle again.

  “Please don’t touch the door,” says the voice.

  My hand jerks back like it was burned. I look up and notice a camera in the corner of the ceiling for the first time.

  “Are you spying on me?” I glare at the screen.

  “We use surveillance to keep people out of our offices who don’t belong.”

  This chick is so lucky I don’t have a BB gun or something really long and pointy with me right now, otherwise I would totally blow the lens of that thing right off the wall.

  “You’re really rude, you know that?” I don’t wait to hear her response. Instead, I take the elevator back down to street level. I don’t start crying until I’m a full block away.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “WHAT’S THE MATTER, LOVE BUG?” Belinda asks as soon as she sees me.

  “Nothing. I just got lint in my eyes.” I walk through the beads into the back room. A quick trip into the bathroom to wash my face off puts everything almost back to where it should be.

  “That looked like real tears to me,” she says when I walk back to the front, adjusting bracelets on my arm. She lifts an eyebrow at me.

  “I know. I just hate when people think they’re better than you, you know? Like you’re just some kind of piece of crap, something they find on the bottom of their shoe.”

  She rubs my upper arm. “Who did that to you? You know they can’t make you feel that way without your permission, right? You’re internalizing their garbage.”

  “I know, I know.” I fiddle with the edge of my torn cuticle. “It’s hard, though, when you’re in a swanky building outside a fancy office and the people inside are telling you they can’t buzz you in because you’re not one of them.”

  She frowns and draws her chin into her neck. “What kind of fancy office were you visiting today?”

  I wave the air in between us and then walk away, intent on letting the hurt feelings dissipate. “Nowhere. Just a surgeon’s office.”

  “Do you need surgery? Sweetie, you didn’t tell me. Is it serious?” She comes around the counter to join me at the bookshelves.

  “No, it’s not for me. It’s not for anyone. I was just … stopping by to give him something of his that I have.”

  “Was this a one-night stand gone bad?”

  “No, not at all. I’ve never met the guy.”

  She sighs. “You’re making no sense, you realize that, right?”

  I nod. I so badly want to tell her all about the ring, but then I know the subject of me not making enough money will come up and she’ll feel pressured into giving me a raise and it’ll make things awful between us. And this place is my haven. If I had to leave it would break my heart. So instead of caving in to my weakness, I stay strong and smile. “I just need to get in to see this guy but his frigging secretaries are blocking me.”

  “So make an appointment,” she says. “If he’s a surgeon he can hardly refuse to see you.”

  “Sure he can. He’s a plastic surgeon in Manhattan. He can pick and choose anything he wants.”

  “Honey, plastic surgery? Seriously?”

  I face her and laugh. “It’s not for me, I promise.”

  She strokes my cheek. “Good. Because your face is exactly perfect, just the way it is.”

  I hold her hand next to me, soaking up her positive energy.

  “So why don’t you try and make an appointment? Maybe he’ll see you. The economy isn’t that great still. Maybe he’ll need the money and you’ll be able to get in. You don’t have to tell him that you’re not really going to go through with it.”

  “I guess I could try.”

  “Do it. I’ll be your wingman.” Belinda walks over to the counter and grabs the phone from it, handing it to me when she comes back.

  I take the phone number from my pocket and dial it, getting more and more nervous as the rings go by.

  “Oliver Cosmetic and Reconstructive Surgery Center, how may I help you?”

  “Hello. I’d like to make an appointment.”

  “May I ask who you are and what you’d like to make an appointment for?” The bitch is already riding the snooty train. I so want to derail her ass.

  I have to breathe in and out a few times to get myself to calm down.

  “Yes, my name is … Belinda and I would like a boob job.”

  Belinda whacks me on the arm, but I ignore her.

  “I’m sorry, but we don’t have anything available.”

  I hold the phone out and give it the finger before going back to the conversation. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I understand.”

  “Are you the same person who showed up outside our door earlier today?”

  I hang up the phone. My heart is racing.

  “What’d she say?” Belinda asks.

  I swallow with difficulty. “She basically told me to eff off.”

  Belinda grabs the phone from me and hits the redial button.

  “No!” I snatch it back and hang it up. “They’ll never see me if you call and bitch them out.”

  “I wasn’t going to bitch them out. I was going to remind them that a little kindness goes a long way. And I was going to offer them a complimentary packet of essential oils. Lots of doctors are using them in their offices these days.”

  I shake my head. “Not now. Wait until after I’ve seen him.”

  She crosses her arms. “How are you going to do that if they won’t even give you an appointment?”

  I chew my lip. “I’m not sure. I’ll think of something, though.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  RALPH IS SURPRISED TO SEE me. I can tell by the way his entire hair-helmet moves with his eyebrows as they go up.

  “To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asks as I approach him at his counter. David the security guard is right behind me, the bastard.

  “Hello, Ralph. So nice to see you again.”

  “Likewise?” He says it like a question.

  “Do you have a minute to discuss some jewelry?” I gesture with my eyes and head that we need to lose David. “Privately?”

  Ralph’s eyes flick up and land on the guy behind me. He nods once and we’re left alone.

  I talk fast because I don’t know how long I have. I don’t doubt for a second that Ralph will press that button under his counter if he feels threatened. I try to look as innocent as possible.

  “Remember how you called my fiancé for me before?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how his secretary basically shut you down?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, she’s doing it to me too now.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “And I need your help to get past her.”

  “Past her?” He leans in and lowers his voice. “Are you going to break the law?”

  “No, don’t be silly.” I grin really hard. “I just need an appointment to see him, and I need you to make that appointment for me.”

  Ralph looks all around him, his gaze landing on each of his colleagues before coming back to me. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s very simple. See, I need someone who’s a really good liar to call the secretary, pretend to be my personal assistant, and book me an appointment. I’ll take it from there.”

  “Are you completely insane?” he whispers. He might also be sweating. He reaches up to scratch at his neck.

  “No, I swear I’m totally sane.”

  “FYI, no insane person in the history of insane people ever admitted to being insane.”

  “I totally would if I were,” I say, nodding so he’ll see I’m serious.

  “I can’t help you.” He stands up straighter and then gestures at David.

  “You have to,” I say, desperate to make this work. “Or I’m going to totally tattle on you.”

&nbs
p; Ralph holds up a hand to stop David’s approach. “Tattle?”

  “Yes.” I fold my arms across my chest. “I’m going to tattle that you got involved in my personal relationship with my fiancé and now he won’t see me. Because of you.”

  His face goes white. “You wouldn’t.” He’s whisper-yelling at me now. “I didn’t do anything!”

  I shrug, cool as I could possibly be. I don’t have a single hive yet. I am so badass right now.

  “I have to see him and give him his damn ring back. And get an apology. The only way I can do that is with an appointment. All you have to do is say I’m someone famous who needs a boob job and book the appointment. That’s it. Your job will be done.”

  He sighs, I think in defeat. Yay!

  “Why do I think my job will never be done where you’re concerned?” he asks.

  Victory is near and I’m nearly giddy with happiness.

  “It will be, I promise.” I wink at him. “Come on, it’ll be fun. You can put your talents to the test.”

  “What talents?”

  “You’re lying-your-ass-off talents. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  He refuses to smile, but I swear I can see the desire there. “When?”

  “Right now. In your office.”

  He shakes his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “No way. Ten minutes. Meet me outside at the corner of Fifth and East Fifty-Ninth.”

  “Done.”

  I wiggle my fingers at him and leave the building, ignoring David completely. I’m tempted to jump up and click my heels, but I resist the urge. For now, anyway.

  Chapter Twenty

  RALPH SHOWS UP WITH A scarf around his neck and black leather gloves on.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, laughing. “It’s the middle of summer.”

  “I don’t want to be recognized.”

  “You’re calling him on the phone, moron. How’s he going to recognize you?”

  “Hey! I’m helping you out, okay? Don’t call me a moron.”

  That subdues me right away. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You’re not a moron, you’re just a little strange.”