CHAPTER FOURTEEN
‘So, before you tell me anything else, without even thinking,’ she commanded, unloading the Starbucks bags and newspapers I’d bought to camouflage my Walk of Shame. ‘How was the sex?’
‘It was amazing,’ I said. ‘Honestly, I know my sex life has been pretty shitty for a while, but he was incredible. He’s strong and big and he goes to the gym and we did it three times and I, God, I don’t know.’
‘OK, you’ve answered my next three questions,’ she said, sinking her teeth into a doughnut. ‘So you’re seeing him again when?’
‘Oh shut up!’ I grabbed a doughnut of my own and shook my head. ‘He had to leave early.’
‘That’s OK, as long as he calls like, today or tomorrow,’ Jenny said, staring me down. ‘But I don’t think that’s bothering you. You know he’s going to call, right? So what’s up? Why aren’t you bouncing off the ceiling?’
‘OK, don’t get mad but because I was sort of thinking on the way back … I’ve only ever been with Mark,’ I said, plopping onto a stool and pulling my hair back into a messy ponytail. ‘I know you’re going to punch me, but even though it was amazing at the time, this morning I felt, well, like I had cheated on him. I know, I know,’ I held out my hand to cut her off, ‘I know it doesn’t make sense, he didn’t even wait to break-up with me before he started sleeping with someone else, but I can’t help the way it feels.’
‘True, you can’t,’ Jenny nodded. ‘But you’re not going to let this stop you seeing him? If anything honey, you ought to be throwing another couple of guys into the mix.’
‘I don’t know. What if I don’t stop feeling weird? And what about Alex? Twenty-four hours ago or so, I’d invited him up here, and now I’ve slept with Tyler? I’ve only just got my head around going on dates with two men let alone sleeping with them both.’
‘This one’s easy,’ Jenny said, slapping my hands away from my hair when I tried to retie my ponytail again. ‘Do you want to see Alex again?’
I nodded.
‘And do you want to see and potentially sleep with Tyler again?’
I nodded.
‘Then fine. You don’t have to choose until you’re ready.’ She picked up her coffee and two more of the doughnuts. ‘And by the way, three times in one night, Park Avenue apartment and a black Amex? You sure as hell are seeing him again or you’re giving me his number.’ She leaned over the bar and kissed me on the cheek. ‘Go get ready for your meeting with Mary, I’m going to bed.’
Knowing I had a meeting meant that I didn’t have enough time to go over and over what had happened in my head, but I did manage a quick self-analysis while applying mascara (Razor would have been so proud). Looking myself in the eyes, I tried to smile at the new girl looking back. It wasn’t the clothes or the hair or even the faint tan I’d acquired in the past week, although all of that was new, I just couldn’t remember the last time I’d looked in a mirror before I came to New York. Not caught sight of myself as I walked by, not sorted out my dodgy parting, but really looked myself in the eye. At best I managed a quick sideways glance on my way out of the shower to see how my Weight Watchers torment was coming along, never a happy moment. And now, there was this strange girl staring back at me. A girl who dates two guys at once, writes for the website of a fashion glossy, who lives in New York. Meep.
On the way out of the door, I picked up my mobile and looked at the phone book – Jenny, Erin, The Look, Tyler, and first in the list? Alex. I’d promised I’d call and I really really wanted to, but it felt so weird, ringing a man I wanted to sleep with when I’d just slept with someone else. No matter how many times Jenny told me it wasn’t a big deal, that New York dating came with different rules (The Rules again!) it just felt wrong to me. And to be honest, no matter how far I was putting feminism back, I wanted any man that wanted to sleep with me, to want to sleep only with me. There, it was out there. I was practically a Puritan.
The safest time to get Alex’s answering machine would be early, I reasoned, that sexy deathly pallor didn’t come from early morning jogs along the river. Convincing myself he wouldn’t answer, I sucked it up and dialled. And he answered on the first ring.
‘Y’ello?’ He sounded sleepy and cute.
‘Hi, Alex?’ I panicked, not having anything prepared except a random babbled statement about calling him back later.
‘Yeah?’ So far so he-didn’t-recognize-my-voice.
‘It’s Angela,’ I said, cursing myself for calling. ‘Angela Clark?’
‘Oh, hi.’ He yawned loudly. This plan had not gone well. ‘I wondered when you were going to call.’
‘I said I would,’ I defended myself. It had only been a day. Should I have called by now? Erin had said three days. Bloody Erin. ‘So, you know, Saturday was really fun, thanks.’
‘Uh-huh,’ he replied. ‘Sorry, I just woke up, I’m not really a morning person.’
‘Oh, me neither,’ I said, rushing towards Times Square. ‘But I have a meeting, so I thought I’d call and … sorry. I should have called later.’
‘No, it’s fine,’ he said with another deep yawn. I wondered how he looked first thing. I imagined his hair all stuck over on one side, pillow creases in his cheek. ‘Listen, you want to do something Wednesday? You want to go to MoMA?’
‘Sounds great,’ I said, relieved that I would have two days to sort my head out and wondering what a MoMA was.
‘Cool, meet you outside the main entrance at three?’
‘Perfect, see you then.’ Instead of looking for the Spencer Media building, I found myself guessing what he slept in. Maybe he was wandering around his apartment naked. Not the right chain of thought. Bad Angela.
‘Good, Angela,’ Mary said, pacing around her office clutching my diaries. ‘It’s actually good. It’s pacy, it’s funny – funny-ish – and I’m thinking I’m a reader and I’m kind of interested in these men you’re dating. You’re still seeing both of them?’
‘Yes,’ I said, watching her anxiously and looking out for the coffee I was offered on my way in. ‘I am, but I feeling a bit weird about it. I don’t know, maybe I should just be seeing one of them. Or just slowing it down a little, but with one of them. Or both of them. Or something.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Mary said, finally settling behind her desk. ‘If you want this blog, you keep dating. We need to give them nicknames so that they don’t sue – I’m calling them Wall Street and Brooklyn – they are your story, until something or someone else, comes along.’
‘I suppose,’ I said slowly. I really should have re-read the pieces post-caffeine-high, but I wanted this so badly. ‘I’m seeing Alex on Wednesday but I haven’t made plans with Tyler yet.’
‘Make them.’ Mary buzzed in her secretary and handed me a business card. ‘You’ll email me your column every day by four, keep it detailed on locations, light on the gory details. We want the readers interested in where you’re
