head and brush past him, toward the dangling phone receiver.
“Hello?”
“Sarah?”
“Mom, how did you get this number?”
“It showed up on the caller ID.”
“It did?”
“Where are you, sweetie-pie? And who was that who answered the phone?”
“I don’t know. Just some guy on the street.”
There is a long pause. “Oh, dear,” my mother whispers. “Are you calling from his … apartment?”
“What? No! Mom, you called me at a pay phone. Some guy just happened to answer it and he chased me down.”
“Really?” Another pause. My mother doesn’t grease her wheels all that often anymore. I can almost hear her stripping her gears. “Well, that was very nice of him, wasn’t it?”
“I suppose—”
“I bet that doesn’t happen a lot in New York. And he did have a very sweet voice. You sure you didn’t catch his name?”
“Mom!” I’m pissed. Not at her. At myself. She’s right. I should have gotten his name.
“All right,” my mother relents. “So, tell me. How did it go with the job today?”
“It didn’t take.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I do my very best to explain it to her.
I t doesn’t matter how long I make Amanda wait at a bar. An hour, five minutes—I know when I find her she’ll already be halfway through with her martini, tossing her hair, and laughing gaily at something the bartender just said.
She’s in top shape tonight. She beams when she sees me and waves me over ebulliently. Her cheery disposition annoys me for no good reason I can understand.
“I have good news,” she says.
“Me, too!” Of course I don’t really. But I’m not in the mood to bask in the glow of her self-congratulation just yet.
“Oh.” The twinge of disappointment in her voice please me considerably. “You go first.”
“I met a boy.”
She gulps. “Really? Where?”
“He’s the guy I was supposed to replace at the temp job. He came in this afternoon just to show me the ropes. That was pretty nice of him, don’t you think?”
“I guess.” She shrugs. “Why’s he leaving?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why he’s leaving the job?”
“Oh. Ummm …”
“Don’t you know?”
“Yes, of course I know,” I snap. “He’s, ummm, been having personal problems.”
“Oh.” Amanda raises an eyebrow innocently. “What kind of problems?”
“I don’t know exactly,” I mutter. Man, how much does it suck that even my fake good news isn’t really all that good?
“I see.” Amanda’s smile begins to verge on the smug. “Do you get to see him again tomorrow?”
“No.”
“No more ropes to learn?” Bitch.
“It’s not that.” I pick up a drink menu and study it with far more attention than it really deserves. “I turned down the job.”
“You did? Why?”
“Because I don’t want to be an office manager.”
“You’re in a position to make that kind of decision?”
“Yes,” I say emphatically, more so to convince myself than her.
“Okay.” She shrugs. “Then when do you get to see this boy again?”
I sigh. “Probably never.”
Once the words are out, I feel their sharp sting. I try ignoring the dull ache in my chest. A man I’ve only met once isn’t allowed to break my heart.
“Oh, no, that’s not necessarily true.” Amanda’s tone sounds infuriatingly patronizingly. Almost like she’s mothering me. “You still have the number at the office, right? You could always try calling to see if he’s there.”
My eyes narrow. She just doesn’t get it. She has no idea girls like me don’t get away with calling strange boys out of the blue.
“We’ll see,” I place the drink menu back down.
Amanda’s new pal behind the bar returns to take my drink order. Like well-practiced understudies, she and I block out our old song-and-dance routine. I ask what she’s drinking. She says it’s a chocolate martini. I ask if it’s any good and she tells me it’s delicious. I take a moment to contemplate, then decide to try it.
“Hello?”
“Sarah?”
“Mom, how did you get this number?”
“It showed up on the caller ID.”
“It did?”
“Where are you, sweetie-pie? And who was that who answered the phone?”
“I don’t know. Just some guy on the street.”
There is a long pause. “Oh, dear,” my mother whispers. “Are you calling from his … apartment?”
“What? No! Mom, you called me at a pay phone. Some guy just happened to answer it and he chased me down.”
“Really?” Another pause. My mother doesn’t grease her wheels all that often anymore. I can almost hear her stripping her gears. “Well, that was very nice of him, wasn’t it?”
“I suppose—”
“I bet that doesn’t happen a lot in New York. And he did have a very sweet voice. You sure you didn’t catch his name?”
“Mom!” I’m pissed. Not at her. At myself. She’s right. I should have gotten his name.
“All right,” my mother relents. “So, tell me. How did it go with the job today?”
“It didn’t take.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I do my very best to explain it to her.
I t doesn’t matter how long I make Amanda wait at a bar. An hour, five minutes—I know when I find her she’ll already be halfway through with her martini, tossing her hair, and laughing gaily at something the bartender just said.
She’s in top shape tonight. She beams when she sees me and waves me over ebulliently. Her cheery disposition annoys me for no good reason I can understand.
“I have good news,” she says.
“Me, too!” Of course I don’t really. But I’m not in the mood to bask in the glow of her self-congratulation just yet.
“Oh.” The twinge of disappointment in her voice please me considerably. “You go first.”
“I met a boy.”
She gulps. “Really? Where?”
“He’s the guy I was supposed to replace at the temp job. He came in this afternoon just to show me the ropes. That was pretty nice of him, don’t you think?”
“I guess.” She shrugs. “Why’s he leaving?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why he’s leaving the job?”
“Oh. Ummm …”
“Don’t you know?”
“Yes, of course I know,” I snap. “He’s, ummm, been having personal problems.”
“Oh.” Amanda raises an eyebrow innocently. “What kind of problems?”
“I don’t know exactly,” I mutter. Man, how much does it suck that even my fake good news isn’t really all that good?
“I see.” Amanda’s smile begins to verge on the smug. “Do you get to see him again tomorrow?”
“No.”
“No more ropes to learn?” Bitch.
“It’s not that.” I pick up a drink menu and study it with far more attention than it really deserves. “I turned down the job.”
“You did? Why?”
“Because I don’t want to be an office manager.”
“You’re in a position to make that kind of decision?”
“Yes,” I say emphatically, more so to convince myself than her.
“Okay.” She shrugs. “Then when do you get to see this boy again?”
I sigh. “Probably never.”
Once the words are out, I feel their sharp sting. I try ignoring the dull ache in my chest. A man I’ve only met once isn’t allowed to break my heart.
“Oh, no, that’s not necessarily true.” Amanda’s tone sounds infuriatingly patronizingly. Almost like she’s mothering me. “You still have the number at the office, right? You could always try calling to see if he’s there.”
My eyes narrow. She just doesn’t get it. She has no idea girls like me don’t get away with calling strange boys out of the blue.
“We’ll see,” I place the drink menu back down.
Amanda’s new pal behind the bar returns to take my drink order. Like well-practiced understudies, she and I block out our old song-and-dance routine. I ask what she’s drinking. She says it’s a chocolate martini. I ask if it’s any good and she tells me it’s delicious. I take a moment to contemplate, then decide to try it.
Similar Books
